Eight Years
by WildFlower084
Summary: After Ryan is hurt in a car accident, Temperance is temporarily partnered with her husband for one last case. But when the case takes a bizarre turn, Temperance will be forced to go beyond her beliefs to solve it. [A Booth family story, COMPLETE]
1. Prologue

**A/N: This chapter has been written for like a month and I just couldn't wait to post it. Hope you like it. And yes, this is the January promised "Booth family" story (just probably not what you all expected).**

**Disclaimer: I own' none of the original characters of Bones, the others are MINE!**

**

* * *

April 23 1984**

Isabella Joyce checked, for the last time that night, every room on the first floor. Not finding anything weird or abnormal, she flicked off the light in the living room and quietly moved towards the staircase. She hated these evenings where her husband worked the graveyard shift. She didn't really like being alone with her children in a large and very old house which cracked under her every step. Each noise, each cracking startled her. Even though they had been living in their house for now six years, Isabella Joyce never became accustomed to the calmness and the still silent of the neighborhood.

She climbed the stairs quietly, trying hard to not wake her children. Their sleep had been somewhat light since they had moved in the house, especially Laura's, her youngest daughter. There was just something about that house that scared her, Laura often told her mother.

"She got that from you." Isabella told herself as a noise coming from the basement startled her, making her miss a step.

She stood still in the middle of the staircase for a few seconds, trying desperately to calm her racing heart. She listened. Nothing. If there was nothing, why was her heart still pounding? Why couldn't she shake the nagging anxiety rushing through her veins?

"Calm down, Isa."

There was just something about tonight. Noise. Too much noise. The one in the basement only seconds ago. Another one in the kitchen she had heard while watching television earlier that evening. Noise. Too much noise. She felt like the house was slowly coming alive with each ticking second.

"Don't be ridiculous." Isabella thought to herself.

At the top of the stairs, Isabella walked towards her bedroom, the smallest bedroom in the house, turning off the light as she went. Why her husband and her had chosen the smallest bedroom in the house, Isabella would never truly admit it. They could have taken David's room, their oldest child, which was much more bigger. But Isabella knew, deep down, the reason why they had chosen that particular room. She felt safe in her room. She didn't like big, large rooms. She preferred small ones, cozy ones as she liked to call them. Her fear of open spaces had been the reason why they had left their large house in the country to move into a new house, smaller but still pretty big, in a small city in Virginia.

Winchester just seemed perfect for their family of five. Michael could always work as a paramedic here and Isabella wouldn't be afraid of staying home alone the nights Michael went to work. It had been the plan from the beginning but things hadn't changed. Her fear of open spaces and of the dark hadn't disappeared. Instead, they had grown with time.

In her bedroom, Isabella slipped on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts before climbing into the bed. Turning off the light on her bedside table, she sunk comfortably in her mattress. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief. She finally felt safe in her warm and soft blankets. Nothing could get to her while she laid in bed. Not even the branch lightly scratching at her bedroom window could scare her. Soon, she felt herself being pulled into the sweet realm of unconsciousness.

Her eyes shot wide open and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Something had woke her up but what? Isabella listened intently. Not a sound in the house could be heard. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slipped in her fluffy slippers and stood up. Her maternal instinct was sending her a strong signal, telling her to go check on her children. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

Her legs felt wobbly and Isabella was pretty sure she was going to collapse on the floor with each step. Not bothering with turning on the light, she made her way to the door. As she laid her hand on the doorknob, she immediately understood what had woken her.

Under her feet, the floor trembled so lightly that Isabella thought she had imagined it. She looked out the window. Moonlight bathed half of the room in an eery, white glow. Outside, not even a hint that something was happening. Everything was still. Too still.

Isabella slowly opened the door. As if it had been waiting for her to open the door, the earth underneath her feet shook more vigorously. Standing under the threshold, she held both sides of the door, trying her best to steady herself. In the kitchen, dishes clung together in the cupboards.

Her vision blurred and the rumble of the earth echoed in her ears. She saw a first door, then a second one, open on the other side of the hallway. Two frightened heads popped out of the room.

"Mom! What's going on?" Jane cried to her mother, her eyes full of fear.

But before Isabella had the chance to reply, a scream pierced the air and reached her ears through the chaotic earthquake.

"MOMMY!"

"Laura!" Isabella immediately cried.

The mother tried to take a step but the earth shook too much.

"I'm coming, Laura!"

Another attempt to take another step. She failed again. Isabella felt helpless. She couldn't do anything. Something really wrong was going on in her daughter's bedroom but she was powerless to help.

From her room, Laura cried out in fear once more.

"I'm coming Laura!" Isabella shouted again.

But the intensive buzzing of the earthquake drowned her cry. A third, then a fourth scream eminated from Isabella Joyce's youngest daughter's room. Yet again, Isabella stayed nailed to the floor.

A window shattered in one of the bedrooms. David, Jane and Isabella, still clutching the walls, tried their best to keep their balance. In her bedroom, Laura cried once again then nothing. The earth stopped shaking and silence fell once again upon the house.

Her heart racing in her chest, Isabella sprinted towards her daughter's bedroom. Swinging the door open, she stopped dead in her tracks. She looked about the room. Tiny pieces of glass laid in a pile in front of the window, sparkling in the moonlight. The yellow curtain blew in the wind. Isabella's eyes then fell on her daughter's bed. She gasped. Her daughter's bed was empty.

How was it possible? How could Laura's bed be empty?

Dashing into the room, she went straight for the bed. Crouching down, she looked under it, only to be greeted by darkness. Slightly panicking, Isabella frantically searched her daughter's room. She looked inside the closet and under her desk. Still no sign of her little princess. She went to the window and looked outside. People were already starting to gather around on the sidewalk, each of them still shaking from the earthquake they had just experienced.

A voice behind her made Isabella turn around.

"Mom? What's going on?"

Jane stood at the door, looking worriedly at her mother.

Isabella stared at her middle child.

"Laura's gone."


	2. Chapter 1: A Gruesome Surprise

April 18th, 2016

William sighed as the sound of laughter erupted once again from the bedroom next to his. He hated it when his sister had friends sleeping over. He hated the sound of giggling, the gossip he was pretty sure they were exchanging as they laid in their sleeping bags, a flashlight serving as the only source of lighting in the room. Actually, he hated girls. How was he supposed to read when the girls didn't stop giggling in the next room?

"Shut up!" Will growled as he threw his book aside on his bed and blocked his ears.

It was past ten and they had school tomorrow. Shouldn't his sister and her friend be sleeping by now?

He guessed he couldn't blame her. Ever since his family had moved in 53 Maple Street, he, himself, had had trouble falling asleep. And Marshall's story on what had happened in this particular house several years ago didn't help. The first few nights in their new home had been spent in complete fright as nightmares of ghosts and dead bodies populated his dreams. He never really believed in ghosts before but there was just something about this house that was making him willing to reconsider the whole idea.

Another fit of giggles erupted from the other room and this time, the pre-teen decided he had had enough. Jumping out of bed, he walked out of his room and knocked on the closed door of his younger sister's bedroom. A chirpy voice told him to come in.

"Are you two going to bed soon?" William asked, irritatedly, after opening the door.

"No." Mickey replied, giggling. "Mommy said we could stay up as long as we wanted."

"That is _so_ not true."

"Is to."

"Is not."

"Is to."

"Is not."

William sighed. It was impossible for him to lose this argument. His sister could go on for hours. He'd have to find something else to quiet her. Suddenly, an idea hit him. He smiled evilly.

"Would you girls like to hear a story?"

Mickey and Riley exchanged looks then nodded. Laughing internally, William stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.

He settled himself comfortably on his sister's bed before snatching the flashlight out of her hands. Mickey protested but William ignored her. Instead, he took a deep breath and began the chilling tale of 53 Maple Street.

"This story is true." William started in a low voice. "Thirty years ago, something very strange happened in this house."

Riley gasped while Mickey squealed excitedly.

"What happened?" She asked in a whisper.

"Well, one night, there was some big earthquake. Nobody quite understands why it happened, even the scientists weren't able to explain it. In this house lived a family called the Joyce's and the Joyce's had a little girl called Laura. On the night of the earthquake, her mother heard her scream in her room but by the time she got to her, Laura had already disappeared. Nobody knows what happened to her. They never found her or her body."

Riley grabbed her friend's hand. Mickey eyed her brother suspiciously.

"You're lying."

William shook his head.

"No, it's true. Nobody knows for sure what happened to the girl but there's a rumor."

"What is it?" Riley asked, her eyes open wide and her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

"They say that Laura's body is still in this house."

Both girls gasped loudly. William forced himself not to laugh. His sister and her friend were too gullible, he thought.

They stayed in complete silence for a few seconds before Mickey spoke again.

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. Marshall Simmons told me. He says that his mother was a friend of Laura's older sister. She lived across from their house."

Still, Mickey remained skeptical. She was used to having her brother play tricks on her. She wasn't going to believe his story so easily. A wicked grin spread across Mickey's face. If he wanted her to believe it, he'd have to prove it.

"I know what we should do." Mickey said, sounding cheerful.

"What?"

"Let's go look for it. Did Marshall tell you where the body is?"

"In the basement." William replied, unsure of what his sister was planning on doing.

Mickey stood up.

"Then let's go down to the basement and see if we can find her."

William's heart skipped a beat. The basement? At night? He barely even liked going down to the basement in broad daylight. If he had known his sister would have reacted this way to the story, he wouldn't have told her about it.

Feeling the two girls' eyes on him, William took a deep breath and nodded. Getting to his feet, he walked out of the room and led the two girls down the corridor, the stairs and down another hallway. The house was quiet and the floor cracked under their steps. Will's heart raced madly in his chest. Why had he decided to tell them that story?

He already knew they wouldn't find anything. This was just a rumor. Marshall Simmons had only been kidding when he had told him he would find Laura Joyce's remains in his basement. If Laura's body had never been found, then there was no way Marshall could have known about its whereabouts. Rumor. It had been just a rumor.

The steps cracked and darkness engulfed them as the trio slowly made their way down the stairs. Riley's heart beat quickly and her legs were shaking. She simply wanted to run back up the stairs and go back to Mickey's room where they would be safe. But she couldn't. She had to be brave. William would laugh at her if she got scared.

Her feet touched the cold cement floor. Riley shivered. She hated the basement. She reached out for her friend and grabbed her hand. Mickey squeezed it reassuringly. Riley calmed down a bit. At least she wasn't alone.

William finally found the switch and a dim light illuminated part of the basement. He turned to face the girls.

"Now what?"

"Let's look for her." Mickey replied as if the answer had been obvious.

"You want me to look for a dead body?" William asked, not entirely convinced.

"Of course." Mickey answered as she let go of Riley's hand and began walking around the basement. "You said that Laura's body is still here. Let's find her."

"You're crazy. Besides, I said that it was just a rumor, which means it's probably _not_ true."

Mickey froze in her tracks.

"What?" William asked, frightened.

Mickey smiled.

"Nothing."

The little girl giggled. William growled. Suddenly, he got an idea. Another _evil_ idea.

"Marshall said that she was probably in our laundry room."

William headed towards the tiny room at the back of the basement, trying his best to ignore the hair rising at the back of his neck. Mickey and Riley followed closely.

The entire house was silent, their parents probably already in bed. The only sound came from the water gurgling in some pipes somewhere in the basement.

The door to the small room creaked on its hinges as it opened. William took a deep breath before flicking on the switch. The bright light illuminated the entire room making the three children squint. Somewhere above their heads, a loud _tock_. The three children jumped, startled.

William looked down at the floor. He'd seen it before. That crack in the wooden boards. He hadn't paid much attention to it. Tonight, the slit seemed to be staring at him, like a black eye following his every move. Images of a dead body flashed before his eyes. A girl. Laura?

"Is it there?" Mickey asked, pointing to the crack.

William spun around, startled. Again, above their heads, another noise. Footsteps. Will's breath caught in his throat.

"Maybe." He replied, his voice thick with fear.

Mickey looked up at her brother.

"We'll need something to take off the board."

William nodded before pushing the two girls aside and running down to his father's workshop. He'd seen a crowbar in there before, he was sure of it.

Mickey turned to her friend.

"Do you really think Laura's body is in there?"

Riley shrugged, unable to reply, her own voice stuck in her throat. Her heart was racing and now, more than ever, she wished she could have slept at her house tonight and not here. Who cared if Mommy and Daddy had needed some time alone? She wanted her house, the safety of her bedroom, knowing that her father was in the other room, protecting them.

William came back a few minutes later. Mickey's eyes fell on the crowbar.

"Daddy will kill you if he ever finds out."

"He won't." William replied, knowing perfectly well it wasn't true.

In a couple of minutes, there would be a hole in the floor. Of course his father would find out.

Sticking one end of the bar into the crack, Will tried to lift the board, unsuccessfully. His hands were shaking, making him weaker than he already was. He turned to his sister.

"You wanted to go find the body, you help me."

Mickey looked doubtfully at the bar for a split second before taking a deep breath and grabbing it. Together, they struggled to rip the board from its spot on the floor. Behind them, the stairs cracked. Riley jumped, startled. From where she stood, she make out the outline of feet coming down the stairs.

"Guys, somebody's coming." Riley whispered.

But the siblings ignored her.

In a loud crack, the board was ripped from the floor.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

Three loud screams pierced the silence of the basement. Startled, William dropped the bar on the floor, making a loud bang as it hit the wood. Mickey grabbed her brother's arm while Riley threw herself in a darker corner, behind the door.

Slowly, the figure stepped into the light and the siblings recognised their father. The two children exchanged worried glances before turning towards their father.

Richard Roberston stopped in front of his children and looked down disapprovingly at them. When his son opened his mouth to say something, Richard cut him off.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Richard asked coldly.

But before the children even had a chance to reply, the man's eyes fell on the hole in the floor.

"And what..."

But the rest of his sentence fell as he noticed the circular hole in the cement floor. William looked at his sister before following his father's glance. Mickey did the same. Hearing nothing but silence, Riley stepped out of her hideout and peaked inside the room. She saw it too.

In a flash, Mickey's father had disappeared into the darkness of the basement. He came back seconds later with a flashlight. Laying on his stomach, he plunged the flashlight into the hole.

The hole was steep but from where he laid, Richard could decipher exactly what it was. Shaking slightly, he pulled his arm back up and got to his feet.

"I want all of you in your room NOW!" He said, the shakes spreading to his voice.

The children obeyed instantly. Richard followed them up the stairs silently. In the kitchen, he snatched the cordless phone from its base and dialed 911.

* * *

Blue and red lights coloured the white brick house when Booth and his wife pulled up at 53 Maple Street. Flashing his badge and Temperance showing her own, the couple stepped under the yellow tape. The front door had been left open and as Temperance and Booth made their way up the driveway, Temperance could see her daughter sitting in the stairs inside the house, a police officer beside her. Temperance shuddered and Booth wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"She's safe, Tempe." He said before kissing the side of her head.

Temperance simply nodded.

They stepped inside the house and were greeted by a team of police officers. Temperance immediately recognized the coroner. Confused, she walked up to him.

"Dr. Kelly, what are you doing here?"

"The local PD called me in since they didn't want to disturb you. That was before they found out one of these kids was yours."

Temperance nodded.

"Where are the bones?" She asked as she lifted the big, blue bag she had dropped beside her only mere seconds ago.

"Follow me."

She followed the pathologist and a police officer down a narrow hallway then down a flight of stairs, passing a young boy sitting at a kitchen table on their way.

"I swear, I didn't know they were there." Temperance heard the young boy plea.

Temperance glanced briefly at him before disappearing down the staircase.

The basement was cold and dark and Temperance wondered what had brought these children down here in the first place. Most of all, what had brought her own _daughter_ down here. She knew Riley could be a follower but she also knew that her daughter could also be very logical at times and know when something was 'dangerous'. So it surprised Temperance to think that her daughter had let herself get dragged down into this dark basement.

They reached a small room at the far upper-left corner of the basement and Temperance instinctively knew they had reached destination. She dropped her bag at the door and listened as the police officer told her everything they already knew about the events. Temperance listened intently, trying desperately to push the thought of her daughter discovering human remains out of her head.

"So whenever you're ready, Dr. Booth, you can start excavating."

Two hours later, some time after midnight, Riley was climbing into her father's SUV and the whole family was heading back home, two streets away.

* * *

"How's Riley taking it?" Angela asked as she watched her friend examine the remains found the previous night.

"She's traumatized." Temperance replied as she placed a skull on her left. "There are three separate bodies in here."

"What?" Angela said, confused.

Temperance looked up at her friend.

"I found three skulls in the remains. That means there are three bodies."

Pulling her latex gloves off, Temperance grabbed her clipboard and her pen.

"Where's Zach?"

"Probably in his office." Angela replied.

"And Monica?"

"Probably in his office."

A smile tugged at Angela's lips. Temperance looked up at her friend, annoyed by what she was hearing.

"Are they attached at the hip or something?" Temperance asked as she jogged down the stairs.

"They're in love!" Angela called after her.

Temperance simply waved off the comment.

Just as Angela had predicted, Temperance found both the forensic anthropologist and her student in Zach's office. Knocking three times at the door, she didn't wait for an invitation to come in before opening the door and stepping into the office. Zach and Monica, who were both busy staring at a computer screen, looked up at her.

"Are you two busy?" She asked, trying hard not to sound in a hurry.

"No." Monica replied, straightening up.

"Good. Because in about forty minutes, I'll need your help."

The two of them nodded.

"Just call us when you need us." Monica said before turning back to the computer screen.

Temperance stared at the couple a few more seconds before shrugging and walking out of the office.

She ordered the bones to be transferred to an autopsy room. Sitting at a table, she grabbed the skulls and marked three separate piles. She knew the drill by heart. It had been her work for the past twenty years but she never got tired of it. It was like doing a puzzle. She separated all the pieces in different piles to later put them back together to form a skeleton.

An hour later, all bones were accounted for. Grabbing the autopsy room phone, she called the two lovebirds who arrived shortly after her call.

"Zach, I want you to analyze victim #2. Monica, you will take victim #3."

Monica stared at her teacher, wide-eyed.

"You really think I'm ready for that, Dr. Booth?"

Temperance nodded, a smile slowly stretching across her face.

"I think you're ready, Monica."

"Thank you, Dr. Booth."

Temperance nodded.

"Now I don't want you to go over the skeleton quickly. I want you to take your time, do the examination procedurally and try not to skip over anything. I want every inch of this skeleton examined, understand? If you need help assembling it, you can ask Zach to help you."

Monica nodded. A few minutes later, Zach and Monica were wheeling their set of remains out of the autopsy room.

* * *

The skeleton was small but Temperance had already deduced that observation while separating the bones into piles earlier. No taller than four foot five, the remains seemed to belong to an 8 to 10 year old Caucasian girl. Temperance jotted it down on her file before carrying on.

A fracture of the larynx showed the child had been strangled. Other than that, no apparent signs of struggles or any other fractures or injuries. Temperance frowned.

_That's odd. This means this child never even broke her arm._

Temperance looked up at the clock. Two o'clock. Her stomach growled. Sighing, she pulled off her gloves and threw them in a garbage can near the door. On her way to the cafeteria, she'd stop to see Monica and Zach.

She found Zach first, walking out of Angela's office.

"Caucasian female, 8 to 10 years of age." Zach replied.

"Cause of death?"

"Drowning."

Temperance nodded before exchanging her own notes with her colleague.

"I just gave the skull to Angela. She said she'd have a sketch by the end of the afternoon."

Temperance nodded.

"Good. Is Veronica here today?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen her yet. I heard she was pretty sick."

"If you do see her, please tell her to come see me. I'll have her do the reconstruction of my skull. I want these victims identified before five, I don't want to wait all night to find out who they are."

On that, she left her colleague to go in search of her student.

After Zach, Temperance had refused to take on another student. It hadn't been completely out of disgust at having an assistant but mostly she had felt the need to work on her own for a while. And she had... for close to seven years.

It was after Riley's sickness that Temperance had first started thinking about getting herself a new assistant. For months, she kept her options open until, a few months earlier, a friend had come up to her asking her for a personal favor. Her niece was completing her PhD in forensic anthropology and was looking for a job. Temperance had agreed to take her and Monica had been added to the Jeffersonian team.

Unlike Zach had been, Monica was very career-driven and Temperance was pretty sure she would make a great forensic anthropologist in a couple of years. She certainly didn't lack determination even though at times Temperance suspected the young woman lacked confidence in her abilities. But then she'd spring right back up and prove her supervisor wrong.

She found the young woman in her office, talking on her phone. Temperance knocked. Monica looked up and motioned to her to come in and sit down. Temperance did just that and waited somewhat impatiently for Monica to hang up.

"Sorry about that." Monica said when she finally did. "I was on the phone with my mother down in Florida."

"Tell me about your victim." Temperance said, straightforwardly.

"Caucasian female. I had trouble deducing her age because of her height. It sort of posed a problem. Her pelvis showed she was closer to the age of 10 but her height suggested she was six or seven."

"So, in conclusion...?"

"Basing my decision on her pelvic bone, I'd say the victim was aged 8 to 10 years old."

"Very good. Any cause of death or injuries?"

"A fractured skull suggests that she was hit behind the head by a blunt object. History of broken wrists and ankles but other than that, zip."

Temperance noted everything down.

"Thank you for your help."

"No problem." Monica replied. "I already sent my skull to Veronica so she can a reconstruction done."

"So I'm guessing Angela's protegee is back?" Temperance asked as she got to her feet.

"Came back this morning and hopefully left her flu bug at home."

Temperance forced a smile before walking out of her colleague's office.

Her forced smile morphed into a real one the second she stepped out of the office. Monica had a lot of strengths, one of them being that she worked very effictively. And _that_, her teacher liked a lot.

* * *

Booth stepped in the Medico-Legal Lab and looked around. It had been months since he had last set foot there and found that he missed it. He laid eyes on his wife at the top of the examination platform and immediately realized how much he missed working with her. It had been close to eight years since they had last worked together. Since then, Temperance had gotten a few partners but the only one who seemed to have been able to stick around was Ryan Longström who, Booth was surprised to notice, wasn't around at the moment.

"Can you scan me on?" Booth called out.

Temperance looked up from victim #2, Zach's victim. A smile tugged at her lips as she left her spot behind the examination table and stepped down the stairs to scan her husband onto the platform.

"What are you doing here?"

Booth kissed her quickly.

"I came to pick you up."

"But my car is here." Temperance said as she walked back to the table and resumed her examination.

"I know. But it'll have to stay here until tomorrow."

Temperance raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Is this Riley's discovery?"

Temperance glared at him.

"One of them."

Booth frowned.

"What do you mean _one_ of them?"

"I meant one of them. There are three."

"Three?"

Temperance nodded.

"Any idea who they are?"

"No."

"I do." A voice said behind them.

Booth and Temperance turned around to see Angela and Veronica climbing the stairs. The two women stopped in front of them and Angela handed her friend three sketches, along with the three files.

"I sent the sketches to Ryan. He just faxed me those. I'd like to introduce you to our Jane Doe's."

Temperance grabbed the files and began flipping through them. At the second photograph, a hand grabbed her wrist, preventing her from turning the page. She looked up at her husband to find him looking intently at the picture of the young girl.

"Booth?"

Booth looked up from the picture to his wife.

"This girl." He said, pointing to the picture. "It's Raine Bennett."

* * *

_Gasps! _**It's Raine Bennett! ... Who's Raine Bennett?**


	3. Chapter 2: A Favor

**A/N: I tried to make this chapter short but it ended up being long anyway. It's still shorter than the last one. Thank you to those who have reviewed. More questions are answered here.**

* * *

Deputy Director Cullen glanced down at his watch and sighed. In another life, one he would never know, he would have been retiring in less than three hours. Everything was ready. He had chosen his successor, he was convinced Seeley Booth would do a perfect job. Unfortunately, he lived in the real world and in the real world, things rarely went the way you wanted them to go. Bad weather, like the thunderstorm they had had the previous night, caused one of your best field agent to be in an accident. A thirty-year-old case file finally had a breakthrough and necessitated FBI investigation. The remains were bones. The only competent (according to him) forensic anthropologist in the region worked with the field agent. Nobody else wanted to work with her. He was forced to find someone else, someone who was not supposed to be working on the field. Her former partner. No, things rarely went the way you wanted them to go. At least, one thing was for sure: the day he would leave the Bureau that had been his life for over thirty years would be in good hands and that, he was thankful for.

Laura Joyce stared intently at him from his desk, as if surveilling his every move. It seemed as though her stare followed him no matter what he stood in front of it. He eyed the child in an almost frightful way. How many times had he seen that cute little face? That same face that had haunted him for years- his only unsolved case. The Joyce case. Everywhere he went, little Laura Joyce followed him in thoughts. What had happened to her? Why hadn't anybody found her body? How could a nine-year-old girl disappear during an earthquake? All these questions nagged at him from the back of his mind.

Sitting down, Cullen grabbed the child's picture. Long black hair and powerful brown eyes. He had no doubt little Laura Joyce would have been a real beauty if only life hadn't decided to take her away. Cullen stared into the child's eyes and the Director could almost see a sadness in them. Her eyes had plagued his dreams, her pleas had echoed inside his mind. He had never been able to forget her. Of all the cases he had investigated, Laura's was the only one he hadn't solved.

The picture under Laura's was similar. A brown-haired girl with sea blue eyes and a 100-watt smile stared back at him. Hope Lawson, 9 years old. Died in very mysterious conditions. Nobody quite knows what happened to her. After a month of investigation, the case was closed and put into the archives. The world had moved on, leaving little Hope Lawson in the dark.

The one under Hope- Raine Bennett. Short for her age, black hair and dark brown eyes. Cullen almost thought she looked like Riley, his successor's daughter. Booth, he had worked on the case. He had spent weeks trying to figure out what had happened to little Raine Bennett. A nine-year-old child simply didn't vanish in broad daylight only to be never seen again. Cullen shivered at the thought that the child had probably never even left her house.

A knock at the door startled him. Cullen looked up from Raine's picture to find Booth standing at the door. Motioning to his agent to sit down, Cullen stood up and began pacing the room.

"I have some good news and some bad news." Cullen started, not looking over at the man sitting in his office.

Booth glanced briefly at Raine Bennett's picture before replying.

"Please start with the bad news, Sir."

Cullen raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"Most people would want to hear the good news first."

"Well I'm not most people."

"That's true."

Cullen paused at the window and stared out. Outside, a light rain was falling. Light gray clouds populated the skies.

"As you already know, Booth, the investigation has already stared on the remains found by your daughter Sunday night."

Booth nodded, trying his best to remain as detached as possible from the thought. He quickly found that he couldn't.

"The bad news is, I got a call this morning from the hospital. Ryan Longström was in an accident."

"Is he okay?"

Cullen turned around to face the agent.

"I know you don't like him very much because your wife and him are really close. No, he's not fine. He'll have to stay in the hospital for a few days and he won't be able to return to work for a couple of weeks."

Booth nodded.

"Booth, I need you to take the case."

"What?"

Cullen sighed and walked over to his desk. He sat down before continuing.

"That's the good news, Booth. I'll need you to work on this case. You and Dr. Brennan-"

"Booth. Dr. Booth."

"Sorry. Dr. Booth and you have a way of working together. You do quick and efficient work when you are together that Ryan and her never did. Take this as my last request but my retirement. If you succeed at finding the culprit, I will make you my successor."

Booth's heart skipped a beat. Deputy Director? Him?

"And if I don't succeed?"

Booth could have sworn he was seeing a smile tugging at his superior's lips.

"Then I'm making you my successor. Either way Booth, I'm taking my retirement soon. I'm getting too old to do this."

Booth chuckled.

"I'm very honored, Sir."

Cullen simply nodded.

"Now go see your wife. You have a lot of work to do."

Nodding, Booth got up and walked out of the office.

* * *

"Is he okay?" Angela asked as she stepped through the sliding doors with her best friend.

"Broken leg, dislocated shoulder and a fractured wrist. All on his left side." Temperance replied.

"What are you going to do?"

"Ryan said that Cullen will probably assign someone else to work with me on the case."

"But who?"

Temperance shrugged.

Unlocking the door to her office, she opened it and stepped inside. The room was dark, she turned on the lights.

"Booth said something about Raine Bennett yesterday. What was he talking about?"

Temperance sat down at her desk and turned on her computer.

"Raine Bennett is... was a little girl who disappeared about sixteen years ago. She was Booth's first case. He was forced to drop it when there were no real leads. It's been haunting him ever since."

"What happened to her?"

"I think she just vanished in the middle of the day. Nobody has heard or seen anything. Doesn't make much sense to me if you ask me."

Angela nodded.

"How's Jack doing?" Temperance asked after a few minutes of silence.

Temperance looked up at her friend. Tears were already forming in the artist's eyes.

"He says he likes it over there and he's not going to come back any time soon. I don't understand why he left, Bren."

"Booth says it's probably because of the baby."

"But I'm carrying another one."

Temperance glanced down at her friend's new bulging stomach. She sighed. How she missed being pregnant. Her children were growing up so quickly. The twins would be turning nine in a couple of months and Brina had celebrated her second birthday only months ago. She was already talking, forming short sentences, running, walking and hated to be held. She had inherited her mother's sense of independence. Temperance missed holding her children and, as much as she dreaded the thought of having children before, she now dreaded the thought of never having another one again. But with the twins, Brina and Parker, their family (and their house) was full. She knew Booth would have no problem on having another baby but Temperance knew it was impossible. Their life was already packed the way it was, another baby wouldn't do any good.

"He still thinks about the other one you lost. He might be protecting himself in case you lose that one too."

Angela snorted.

"I thought you hated psychology."

"I do. This is Booth's theory."

"And what is yours?"

Temperance sighed.

"I'm not good at this type of thing, Ange."

"I know but you must have a small theory about it."

Somewhere in the Jeffersonian, the sliding doors opened and closed.

"I think Booth is right. It makes sense. I know that if I was in his situation, I would probably do the same thing."

Angela sighed loudly as she slumped onto the couch.

"I didn't think he was that kind of man. When we first started dating, I made it quite clear that I wanted to have children later on. He didn't object but he didn't agree. When I got pregnant the first time, he was delighted. He took it really hard when I lost it a couple of weeks later. Then I got pregnant again and he just took off."

"I know Angela. I remember."

"I miss him."

Temperance sighed. She hated seeing her friend suffering like this but she didn't know what to do. She still wasn't good at comforting people, not even with her children. Booth was the comforting, sensitive, affectionate one in their family. She just didn't know how to be. She had learned to receive but not to give.

Footsteps could be heard echoing off the walls. The lab was already buzzing with activity. Crime never slept. New bodies were showing up, archaeologists were demanding identification for skeletal remains found across the world. Temperance should have been working but Angela needed her.

A knock at her door startled her. She looked up in its direction to find Booth standing outside her office. A large smile broke across her face.

"Seeley? What are you doing here?"

Angela looked up. Booth smiled kindly at her, Angela forced a smile back.

"Pack your things, Bones. We have some sleuthing to do."

Temperance frowned.

"Booth, what are you talking about?"

"Cullen asked me to take over the case. We'll be working together."

Temperance stared wide-eyed at her husband before frowning once again.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Wow, gee, thanks Honey. I'm glad you're happy too." Booth replied, sarcastically.

"So you're serious?"

"Yes."

"And what are our plans for today?"

A smile tugged at Booth's lips.

"Talking to the Lawson family."

Temperance nodded and turned to her best friend.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Angela stood up slowly, a protective hand on her stomach. She forced a smile.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. You two kids have fun."

"Ange, are you-"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go!"

Temperance turned to her husband.

"Don't forget, if you ever need anything, you call us, okay?" Booth said.

Angela nodded.

"Thanks, Booth."

Smiling one more time at her, the couple turned around and walked out of the office. Wiping a tear that had managed to escape, Angela did the same.

* * *

"She's fine as long as she doesn't talk to Jack. When she does, she comes to work the next thing with puffy eyes and she doesn't stop crying." Temperance said as Booth pulled the SUV into the Lawson's driveway.

"How far along is she?"

"Six months, maybe."

Booth turned off the ignition and the couple climbed out of the vehicle.

"She's way passed the last time."

Temperance nodded.

"Do you think Jack is going to come back?" Temperance asked as Booth rang the doorbell.

"How the hell should I know?"

The front door opened to reveal a very-tired looking woman. Booth introduced himself before asking for permission to come in. The woman nodded and stepped aside. The couple stepped inside the house.

They were led to a small living room where they offered a seat and something to drink. Booth declined the drink, Temperance asked for water. The woman fetched it for her. Once they were finally settled comfortably, Booth immediately began.

"As you probably already know, your daughter's remains were found two nights ago."

Mrs Lawson nodded.

"The local police has already dropped by. I thought they were investigating."

"Hope's death falls under FBI jurisdiction. The local PD had stepped back."

"I see."

"Mrs Lawson, I need you to tell me what exactly happened the day Hope disappeared."

"Hope was taking a bath. I was downstairs with my husband and my other children."

"How many other children do you have?"

"Four. Hope was my middle one. She was nine years old the day she disappeared. Anyway, as I was saying, we were downstairs watching television when I heard Hope scream. I ran upstairs to check on her but the bathroom door was locked. We never locked the bathroom door when our children were in the tub. By the time I got to the bathroom, Hope had stopped screaming. I couldn't hear anything. I finally got the door open, I have no clue how. Hope was floating face down in the tub. I got scared and ran downstairs to get my husband. When we came back upstairs, Hope was gone."

"Her remains showed that your daughter drowned."

Mrs Lawson nodded.

"Do you remember anything else about that night?"

"That's all I can tell you. We never found Hope. There was no trace of a break-in, nobody prints of any kind that would link Hope to an abductor. Nothing. There was no water on the floor or anything. It's like the ground sucked her in."

"How long did it take you to fetch your husband, Mrs Lawson?"

"I don't know. I ran down the stairs, tried to tell him that Hope had drowned in the tub. My younger children got scared. We tried to calm them down then we ran back upstairs. The door was still open except that the bathroom was empty. I'd say not more than two or three minutes."

"This gave plenty of time to the abductor to take your daughter and hide somewhere in the house."

Mrs Lawson shuddered.

"Do you mean to say that a stranger could have been hiding in my house the whole time?"

Booth and Temperance exchanged looks.

"How long did you stay at 53 Maple Street after your daughter's disappearance?"

"How did you know we lived there?" Mrs Lawson asked, surprised.

"Just answer my question."

"About six months. Then we moved out. I couldn't bare to stay in that house. My kids were having nightmares about burning bodies and zombies. My youngest one, who was three years old at the time, complained about hearing noises in her bedroom. We moved out before things got out of hand. But why the questions about 53 Maple Street?"

"Do the names Raine Bennett and Laura Joyce ring a bell to you, Mrs Lawson?"

The woman shook her head.

"No. Sorry."

"Your daughter's remains were found amongst the two other girl's. Raine Bennett and Laura Joyce both lived at 53 Maple Street. The remains were found in the basement of the house."

Mrs Lawson gasped.

"No."

"I'm very sorry."

Tears welled at the back of the woman's eyes.

"You mean to tell me that my little Hope never even left our house?"

"It's a possibility." Booth admitted.

The front door opened and closed. The adults fell silent. Footsteps were heard and soon three black-haired heads popped inside the living room. Booth turned around and locked eyes with a teenage girl.

"Kids, this is Agent Booth and Dr. Temperance Booth. They have news about Hope."

The teenage girl turned serious. Her two other brothers fell silent.

"Agent Booth, these are my children Michael, Thomas and Raquel."

Booth nodded politely. The three children said nothing.

"Thomas is my youngest child."

Booth turned to Mrs Lawson.

"Your children are probably hungry. We better leave."

The couple stood up, followed closely by Mrs Lawson. The woman walked them back to the door. Thanking her one more time for her time, Booth opened the door and stepped out. Temperance followed.

They were reaching the SUV when the front door swung open.

"Agent Booth!"

Booth and Temperance turned around to find Raquel running down the stairs. The teenage girl stopped in front of them.

"I shared a room with Hope back on Maple Street." The teenager said. "I would wake up in the middle of the night to see a man standing in our room. But every time I'd get scared and would duck under my covers. When I'd look again, the room would be empty."

Booth nodded.

"Did this occur every night?"

"Almost every night. There's one more thing. There was a little girl sometimes."

Booth frowned.

"A little girl?"

Raquel nodded.

"Short. With brown hair and brown eyes. She sat at the foot of our bed. She cried. I don't know who she is."

"You were quite young when all of this happened. Are you sure you simply didn't just imagine it?"

Booth saw Raquel's features tense.

"You're just like the rest of them, aren't you?" The young girl spat before turning around and running back inside the house.

Booth turned to his wife.

"What was that all about?"

Temperance shrugged.

From the depths of his pocket, Booth's cellphone rang.

"It's probably Angela." The man stated as he reached inside his jacket and fetched his cellphone.

Without checking the caller ID, Booth flipped his phone open.

"Booth."

"Agent Booth?"

A man's voice. Definitely not Angela.

"Yes."

"My name Jason Triggs and I'm a defence lawyer. I'm calling from the Virginia State Penitentiary. I need you to come here right away. It's urgent."

Before Booth even had a chance to reply, the line was disconnected.

"Who was it?"

Booth glanced at the house. From the living room window, Raquel was glaring at him.

"A lawyer named Jason Triggs. He said he needed to meet with me. He said it was urgent."

Temperance frowned.

* * *

**Reviews keep me happy :-)**


	4. Chapter 3: Of Innocence and Strange Men

**A/N: I actually gave myself the creeps while writing this chapter. Hope you enjoy:-)**

* * *

The SUV sped down the highway. For a Tuesday afternoon the traffic was light and Booth had no problem driving down to the state penitentiary. The lawyer's words echoed in his mind. _It's urgent._ The man had said over the phone. But what was urgent? And why had Booth heard that name before?

He turned to his wife who was staring absently out of the window. Reaching over to her, he gently squeezed her thigh. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about Raquel. There's something about what she said that bothers me. What did she mean when she told you you were like the rest of them? Who's them?"

"You know, I was asking myself the same question. Do you think she's seen some kind of therapist after her sister disappeared?"

Temperance shrugged.

"You really think that's what it is?"

"Well that's what it sounded like to me. Besides, she was what- eight?- when her sister died. She could have been traumatized and her parents might have thought seeing a therapist would help her deal."

"Maybe."

"You don't seem entirely convinced?"

"I don't know, Booth. There seems to be more to it. She really got angry when you asked her if she simply just imagined the whole "man in her room" thing. Maybe she _is_ telling the truth. She sure looked like she was."

"Oh so _now_ you can read people?"

"I took a course a couple years ago on body language. I'm pretty good at it, actually."

Booth chuckled.

"What?"

"I missed this." Booth replied as he pulled out of the highway.

"Missed what?"

"Working with you. I feel like we've gone back ten years in the past."

"Has it already been ten years?"

"Close."

The SUV stopped at a red light and Booth took that opportunity to turn to his wife and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I love you."

Temperance smiled.

"I love you too."

Booth slowly leaned and brushed his lips against hers. The light turned green and a car honked behind them. Booth growled softly as they pulled away.

"Some people are just not patient." Booth said.

The car honked once again.

"Okay, relax!"

Temperance sighed and looked out of the window. One thing hadn't changed since the beginning of their partnership: Booth hadn't grown more patient over the years.

* * *

The room was small and dark, the only source of light coming from a single window hanging high above their heads. It was mildly cold and Temperance found herself shivering.

"Want my coat?" Booth immediately asked.

Temperance shook her head.

"I'm fine."

Booth nodded.

"Who are we meeting?"

Booth shrugged.

"Jason Triggs and his client, apparently. Whoever _he_ is."

There was a noise behind them and Booth winced at the screeching noise of the gates as they opened. The couple stood up and turned around. A man dressed in orange jail clothing approached, held by two security guards. A taller man, neatly dressed, followed behind. The couple exchanged confused glances.

Jason Triggs stepped out from behind the three other men and introduced himself. Motioning to the chairs, he sat down himself and waited as Booth and Temperance did the same. The prisoner took a seat on the other side of the table.

"Thank you for coming quickly, Agent Booth. I'd like you to meet my client, David Pharatt."

Booth nodded politely at the man sitting across from him. The man nodded back.

"Mr. Pharatt has something he would like to say to you."

Booth turned back to the prisoner.

"I'm listening Mr. Pharratt."

The man cleared his throat.

"When I saw the article in the newspaper, I just _had_ to contact you."

"What article?"

"The one on 53 Maple Street. You found remains in the basement belonging to three little girls who once lived in that house."

Booth remained passive. Behind the prisoner, the two security guards stood straight as posts in front of the one-way mirror.

"I lived in that house back in 1990s. My daughter and I moved in a year after the Laura Joyce's disappearance. If only I had known the little girl was still in the house, I never would have moved in."

"Why did you ask to meet with me, Mr. Pharatt?"

The older man's features turned serious. Booth examined him. The man looked tired. Deep stress lines wrinkled his forehead and the corner of his eyes. His long hair had turned salt-and-pepper and his blue eyes seemed to have died. The man's unshaven beard masked half of his face. Booth found himself pitying the person sitting in front of him.

"I was incarcerated for the murder of my daughter, Melanie, in 1992. They said I pushed her down the stairs. They're wrong. I never hurt my daughter."

Booth stared intently at the man in front of him. Tears began to form in the prisoner's eyes and Booth instantly knew the man was telling the truth. Behind him, a security guard cleared his throat. Booth and Triggs both glared at him.

"Four girls, all aged nine years old, died in that house, Agent Booth. It's cursed. The house is cursed. Who lives there now?"

"A new family."

"Do they have a nine-year-old daughter?"

Temperance shivered. Booth remained calm.

"Yes."

"Get her out of there."

Pharatt's blue eyes turned electrical and Booth thought he detected a hint of dementia in them.

"Mr. Pharatt, I can assure you that the little girl is fine."

A buzzer rang and all knew the interview was now over. The security guard stepped behind Pharatt and both grabbed him by one arm. Pharatt didn't struggle.

"Get the little girl out of the house, Agent Booth, before it's too late."

"Shut up!" The taller security guard warned him.

Booth stood up and watched the prisoner walk out of the room.

"Get her out!"

The door slammed shut. Booth looked at his wife then at the defence lawyer.

"You believe him?" Booth asked the lawyer after a few seconds of silence.

"It's my job to believe him, Agent Booth."

Booth nodded.

* * *

"Why are we here?" Temperance asked as the couple made their way through the tall grass.

The sun had disappeared behind thick clouds and light rain slowly started to fall.

"I don't know. I just had the feeling this is where we had to start."

"At a cemetery?"

Booth simply shrugged. Temperance didn't question him anymore.

They walked through the tombstones in silence. Somewhere up in a tree, a crow cried. First raindrop on the nose. Second. Third. Stones everywhere. Where would they start looking? They had no idea where her grave was. Fourth. The gate opened at the cemetery's entrance. Probably another family coming to grieve a deceased loved one. Fifth. Sixth. Colbec, James. Hanson, Daphne. Parker, Henrietta. Parker, Karl. Pharatt, Melanie.

_In loving memory of_

_Pharatt, Melanie._

_(1983 – 1992)_

_Forever we will love you._

Temperance grabbed her husband's arm, stopping him in his tracks. She pointed to the stone beside her. Booth crouched down and examined it. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. He wasn't sure he would actually find something valuable to an investigation. He just had a feeling this is where he needed to start.

_Daughter of David Pharatt and Monica Jennings._

"Monica Jennings?" Booth asked, confused.

"Probably her mother, Booth."

"Yeah I kinda got that already Bones, thank you. It's just that I've heard that name before but where?"

Temperance shrugged. Booth remained silent.

"Are you okay?"

Booth slowly turned to face his wife.

"She was so young. Nine years old. Do you think Mackenzie is in danger?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

Booth nodded.

"It's just... I'm tempted to believe him."

"Melanie's father?"

"Yes."

"He seemed a bit crazy if you ask me."

"Yeah well prison will do that to you."

Booth looked back at the tombstone. An angel was engraved on the rock, reaching out to the sky, a crystal in its hands.

"It's not fair that an innocent man stays in jail for a crime he didn't commit." Booth said after a few minutes of silence.

Temperance turned to him, obviously confused.

"I'll reopen the case."

"Can you do that?"

"I don't know. We'll see."

"What about the case we're working on?"

"If David Pharatt is right, and that something really bad is going on at 53 Maple Street, Pharatt's case touches the one we are working on at the moment. If I can really prove that Pharrat is innocent, then he can walk away a free man and we can go back searching for the real murderer."

"Do you think it's the same person?"

"Could be."

"Laura Joyce died 32 years ago? You really think it can be the same person?"

Booth glanced one more time at the child's grave.

"That's what I intend to find out."

* * *

He never thought he would see them again. Yet, when Mrs Bennett opened the door, it was like Booth had been sucked into a time warp and had landed sixteen years earlier. She hadn't changed. Her hair was still ink black, her eyes were still chocolate brown and her smile was still enlightening. She hadn't lost weight, nor had she put some on.

"Agent Booth."

"Dorothy."

He called her by her first name, just like she had asked him to do years back. Her name brought back the acid taste in his mouth, the one he got every time he thought about Raine Bennett. Guilt. Guilt that he hadn't brought her any justice. Guilt that he had been forced to close the case. Guilt that he had missed her funeral. Guilt. Acid guilt on his tongue.

"Come on in." The woman said, stepping aside.

She smiled warmly at Temperance.

"Dorothy, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan, my wife, my temporary partner and the forensic anthropologist who examined your daughter's remains."

"Actually, Monica did. I just confirmed her findings."

Dorothy nodded.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Coffee? Tea?"

Temperance and Booth shook their heads.

"We're only staying for a few minutes. I just need to go over a couple of points with you then we'll leave."

"There's not much more that I can tell you, Agent Booth. I already told you everything I knew when Raine disappeared." Dorothy replied as she led the couple into the kitchen.

Passing in front of the living room, Temperance caught the sight of Raine's picture hanging from the wall. She stopped and examined it. That Raine Bennett looked nothing like the one on the missing person's report. That Raine Bennett was happy, smiling and possibly laughing at the weird faces the professional photographer was making while he was snapping pictures of her.

"This picture was taken only months before Raine disappeared." Dorothy explained.

"She was a very beautiful child." Temperance replied, honestly.

"Thank you."

"Is your husband or children around, Dorothy?"

Dorothy turned back to the agent.

"Ben is working late again tonight. He's been working too much but they are short of staff at the hospital lately. Kim is resting, she isn't feeling well. And Patrick... well... let's just say I don't know where he is."

Sadness momentarily erased the woman's smile off her face, only for it to come back seconds later.

"If you want, I can wake Kim up."

"That won't be necessary."

They sat down at the kitchen table. Dorothy looked expectantly at the couple.

"What would you like to know?"

"Is there anything new you can think of? A piece of information you never told me in the past?"

Dorothy considered the question for a few seconds before shaking her head.

"Nothing. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't really expect you to remember anything else."

"How did she die?"

"A fractured skull suggested that she was struck behind the head by a blunt object." Temperance replied, slowly.

Watching for any sign of emotion on the woman's face and seeing none, Temperance went on.

"There was also a history of fractured wrists and ankles."

Dorothy nodded.

"Raine was a gymnast and a very good at that. She did competitions, she won medals. She was really good. She broke her wrist when she fell off the asymmetric bars back when she was seven. That same year, she sprained her ankle doing a routine in a competition."

"She started gymnastics young?"

Dorothy nodded.

"She was three years old when she started. She simply loved it. She was the only one of our children who played sports. Patrick simply stayed in his room to read and Kim preferred playing dolls with her friends than going outside. Raine was our active one. Always outside, always climbing trees, running around. She was so full of life."

A small pause.

"Where was she found?"

Temperance and Booth exchanged awkward glances.

"What?" Dorothy asked, suspicious.

Booth cleared his throat.

"We found Raine's remains in the basement of the house you lived in when she disappeared."

Dorothy gasped.

"Among the remains of two other girls the same age."

Dorothy's eyes widened.

"Did you know that two other girls living in that same house had mysteriously disappeared just like your daughter?"

Dorothy swallowed.

"There were... rumors... going around. I heard of this girl who disappeared during an earthquake."

"Laura Joyce."

"Yes. Laura Joyce. I had heard about her. Then little Melanie Pharatt but I think her father killed her."

Booth said nothing.

"After my daughter, there was this other little girl. I forgot her name. She drowned in her tub and nobody was found her body."

"How do you know about all of this?" Temperance asked, curious as to how this woman seemed to know as much information about the other two little girls when she, herself, had only learned of that hours ago.

"By my kids, mostly. Patrick was nine when we first moved in and he came home from school frightened. He told me that a boy in his class had told him about the murder and the disappearances. I didn't know what else to tell him, I didn't know if it was true so I did a bit of investigation."

"What did you find during your investigations?" Booth asked, suddenly interested in the conversation.

Never had Dorothy told him about her investigating the other deaths. Maybe he hadn't let her a chance to do so in the past either.

"You seem surprised. Whatever you're thinking, I didn't do it on purpose not to tell you, Agent Booth. Besides, you were investigating my daughter's disappearance. Not the other ones."

Booth said nothing.

"I didn't find much, only what I just told you. I just needed confirmation that the rumors were not true. They were true, it turned out. That's all I can tell you."

Booth nodded.

Footsteps on the second floor told them Kim had woken up.

"How old is your daughter today?"

"22."

"And she still lives with you?"

Dorothy nodded.

"She's had a rough last year. Her boyfriend of six years broke up with her, she lost her job and the baby she was carrying. She had been living on her own since she was 18 but when she showed up on our doorstep ten months ago, we couldn't refuse her refuge."

"I understand."

Footsteps down the stairs. Booth and Temperance stood up.

"Thank you for your time. It was nice to see you again, Dorothy."

The woman nodded.

"It was nice to see you two, Agent Booth. You're always welcomed here for dinner, you know that. Do you have children?"

"Yes I do. Four of them."

"Bring them. I'd love to meet them."

"I'll think about it."

A young woman, resembling vaguely the older version already present, walked in the kitchen. She stopped dead in her tracks and eyed the visitors suspiciously. Her eyes stopped on Booth and narrowed as if searching her memory to remember where she had seen him.

"You remember Agent Booth, Kim?"

The young woman tilted her head to the side.

_She almost looks like a dog._ Temperance thought to herself.

Kim finally nodded.

"Yes. I remember."

"They found Raine."

Kim's head snapped in her mother's direction.

"She's dead."

The words hung heavily in the air. Temperance turned to her husband.

_Let's get out of here_. Her eyes told him.

Booth nodded to her silent request.

"We have to get going. Our children aren't going to put themselves to bed."

"Who is watching them?"

"A friend of ours." Booth replied. "Don't bother. I know the way out."

Dorothy nodded and watched as the couple disappeared down the hallway. Temperance only glanced briefly at the picture in the living room as they passed. At the door, Booth stopped and turned around, half expecting Kim to be walking behind them. Seeing nobody, he opened the door and stepped out.

"Agent Booth?" A voice said as Booth opened the door to his vehicle.

"Yes, Kim?"

"There was a man." The young woman replied, crossing her arms in front of her to warm herself up. "Every night at five o'clock. He walked past our gate, always wearing the same thing. He looked almost unreal. He'd disappear around the corner."

Booth nodded.

"Okay, Kim."

"I never told the others."

"Thank you for telling me."

The woman smiled before turning around and disappearing back into the house. Booth sat down in the SUV and closed the door. Temperance turned to face him.

"Seems like the day for confessions." Booth said as he turned on the ignition.

"It's a weird family." Temperance said as they pulled out of the driveway.

"The Bennett's have a history of mental illnesses in the family. Ben is a bipolar doctor, Dorothy has been suffering from depression since her daughter disappeared and Kim seemed to have inherited her parents' illnesses. I think Raine was the only normal child in that family."

"And Patrick?"

"I've seen him recently. He lives on the streets somewhere in Washington."

Temperance nodded.

"You seem to know a lot about them."

"Are you jealous, Temperance Booth?" Booth asked, teasingly.

"No. I'm just... surprised, that's all."

Booth sighed.

"I stayed in touch after I closed the file on Raine's case. I couldn't bring myself to shut them out of my life. I made my first mistake with them."

"Which is?"

"Never get emotionally attached to the victims' families."

"That's good advice, Agent Booth."

Booth forced a smile.

"Where to now?" Temperance asked.

"Home sweet home. You are overdue for a talk with our daughter."

Temperance sighed as she turned back towards the window. She had dreaded the day where she would have been forced to tell her daughter about the kind of work her mother was doing but Temperance knew the time had now come. She could no longer hide herself from her daughter. Not now that Riley had been plunged into her world involuntarily.

* * *

The child turned in her bed. A bump startled her back to consciousness. Something hard. Her foot had hit something hard.

She felt it. The corner of her bed. She felt the pressure, she heard the springs in the mattress squeak. Her heart began thumping loudly inside her chest. The room grew colder. The tip of her nose began to freeze. Riley brought herself to open her eyes.

"Who's there?" She asked, hoping her voice didn't betray the fear she was feeling.

A whimper answered her. Frowning, Riley slowly sat up in her bed. Her eyes grew wide. There, on the corner of her bed, sat a little girl. Dressed in a light pink overalls and a white shirt. Her long brown hair cascaded down past her shoulders to land gently in the middle of her back. The little girl slowly turned around and Riley felt her blood freeze in her veins as the children made eye contact.

The little girl said nothing but just then, Riley felt something collide with her arm. A piece of paper stuck to her forearm. Confused, Riley looked at the moment questioningly. The girl pointed to the paper. Riley picked it up and turned it over. The number 8 was written on it.

"Eight? What does it mean?"

The little girl let out another whimper. She stretched her arm in front of her. Riley watched in fear and anxiety as writing slowly appeared on the girl's arm.

_Help us._

"H-h-h-elp you?"

The writing engraved in the little girl's arm disappeared. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, the girl ghost slowly misted away.

With her heart still thumping madly inside her chest and the paper clutched in her hand, Riley gently laid herself back in her bed and, with her covers over her head, went back to sleep.


	5. Chapter 4: Beliefs

**A/N: I really tried to make this chapter shorter but these characters just _love_ to talk. It's shorter than the last one but hopefully as interesting. Have fun reading :-)**

* * *

The kitchen smelled of pancakes and maple syrup when Riley walked in the room the next morning. Just like every morning, the child found her family already seated at the kitchen table, waiting for her. Her father sat at the far end of the table where his newspaper hid most of his face (Riley loved to deduce from her father's brow's reaction the type of news her father was reading). Her brother sat on his right, an empty plate in front of him and a glass half-filled with orange juice. Her mother sat beside him, at the other end of the table, across from her father, leaving an empty chair on her right just for her.

"Hey Rye!" Temperance said as her daughter sat at her usual spot. "Would you like some pancakes?"

Riley nodded. Booth looked up from his newspaper.

"Hey Pumpkin. Had a good sleep?"

Riley debated whether or not to tell her parents about her late night visitor. She looked up at her father and noticed that his eyes had already settled back to the newspaper. Her question had been answered.

She was about to look away from her father when her eyes caught sight of the front page. Her eyes widened.

"It's unbelievable." Booth said as he lowered his newspaper and folded it.

"What's unbelievable?" Temperance asked as she poured the syrup onto her daughter's pancakes.

"We visit David Pharatt and the next day he makes the headlines."

"What does the article say?" Temperance asked as she grabbed her children's plates.

"It says that he might be innocent, just like he always claimed. Then there's a little biography of him, a summary of the crime and the trial and a small editorial at the end."

Temperance nodded as she set a plate in front of Lukas then another one in front of her daughter.

"What does the biography say?"

"It said that Pharatt moved to Winchester in 1985, two years after his daughter's birth and one year after Laura Joyce's disappearance. Melanie's mother apparently died of cancer, causing her husband to move out of New Jersey and to Virginia. Running away from the memory of his late wife, I guess."

"That's it?"

Temperance sat down and began eating her own breakfast.

"The article also said that Pharatt raised his daughter on his own. He never remarried or dated after his wife's death. They looked like a perfect, happy little family according to friends and neighbors. Melanie played the piano, David loved to listen to her play. He took her to the park, museums, plays, concerts, etc. The entire neighborhood was utterly shocked when they found out that David had killed his daughter."

Lukas gasped and Riley remained silent.

"I don't think we should be talking about this in front of the children." Booth immediately added.

"It's okay Dad. We heard worst at school."

Riley looked up at her brother. Booth and Temperance eyed their son curiously.

"What exactly did you hear, Luke?"

"Oh, just that the house where Mackenzie lives is haunted."

Temperance snorted. Booth glared at her.

"It's just an urban legend, Lukas. There are no such things as ghosts." Temperance replied, ignoring her husband's glare.

"Yes there is."

Temperance's head snapped towards her daughter.

"What did you say?" Temperance asked, surprised.

"I said that there are such things as ghosts."

"No there isn't."

Riley defiantly locked eyes with her mother.

"Yes, there is. Melanie Pharatt visited me last night. She told me to help her. She gave me a piece of paper with the number 8 on it."

Booth frowned. Lukas was speechless. Temperance remained skeptic.

"Rye, you probably just imagined this. Ghosts don't exist and Melanie Pharatt has been dead for over twenty years. She can't have visited you last night. You probably just had a bad dream because of our conversation last night."

"No, it's not that. Wait right here." Riley said as she jumped out of her chair and ran out of the kitchen.

"Riley, would you just come back and eat your breakfast?" Temperance cried after her daughter.

"In a minute!" Riley replied as she ran up the stairs.

Booth chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Temperance snapped.

"You know the saying: like mother, like daughter."

Temperance glared at her husband.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"She's just as stubborn as you are. The second there is something stuck in her head, she clings to it like a lifeline."

"Mom! Brina is awake!" Riley cried from the top of the stairs.

Temperance sighed loudly as she got up. A smile tugged at Booth's lips. Temperance simply ignored it.

As she passed her daughter's bedroom, Temperance tried her best not to peek in to see what her daughter was doing. She could hear her rummaging through her stuff and Temperance found herself wondering if maybe her daughter wasn't telling the truth.

_Stop it, Brennan. You're being ridiculous. There are no such things as ghosts._

Brina stood in her crib and smiled broadly as her mother walked in the room.

"Mommy!" The child cried, lifting up her hands to be taken out of her bed.

"Hey Bryn." Temperance said, softly. "Are you hungry?"

The toddler nodded. Temperance smiled and, as she walked out of the room, the mother thought about how it was time for her youngest child to start sleeping in a real bed.

Temperance was putting the little girl in her highchair when Riley came running back down. She waved the paper as she walked in the kitchen, only stopping briefly to kiss her sister on the head.

"There." She said, handing the paper to her mother.

Skeptically, but more unsure of herself, Temperance grabbed the paper. As Riley had said, the number "8" was written on it. She looked up at her daughter.

"Did you write this?"

Riley sighed loudly as she sat down at her spot.

"No."

Booth motioned to his wife to give him the paper. She handed it to him.

"No, she's right Tempe. This isn't her handwriting."

If truth be told, Temperance had already noticed the handwriting differed from her daughter's, a handwriting she now knew too well from helping her with her homework.

"Where did you find this?" Booth asked, seriously.

"I told you already. Melanie came to visit me last night and she gave me this. She also had the words "Help us" written on her arm."

Temperance sat down at the kitchen table and handed Brina her breakfast.

"I think they've been watching too much TV." Temperance told her husband.

Riley growled.

"I do not watch too much TV. It's true!"

Temperance stared helplessly at her husband. Booth, uncomfortable, looked anyway.

He had to be honest with himself. The paper he was currently holding didn't have his daughter's handwriting on it. The 8 had been traced perfectly, almost like it had been written by an adult. Riley's writing was sloppier. The rounded tips of her 8s were narrower. These ones were large and round.

Booth turned to his daughter.

"Are you really telling the truth?"

"Yes." Riley growled, forcing herself not to roll her eyes.

She knew how much her father hated it when she did that.

"Okay." Booth replied, nodding.

Then, turning to his wife, he added:

"Consider this a clue, Bones."

Temperance opened her mouth to reply but changed her mind. Her husband's look, along with the use of her old nickname, told her that she shouldn't argue his decision.

* * *

"I can't believe you're actually believing her." Temperance told her husband as they drove out of their driveway.

Brina's nanny had arrived, the twins had been sent to school and the couple was now running late, just like they had been every day of the week for the past nine years. The streets were now almost empty and Booth knew he'd be able, once again, to make the trip from Winchester to Washington in record time.

"I can't believe you're not believing her. She's your _daughter_, Temperance."

"There are no such things..."

"As ghosts, I know. You said it like... I don't know, just a hundred times this morning. I know you don't believe in ghosts but let me ask you this: when has Riley ever lied to us?"

Temperance swallowed and turned to the window, refusing to meet her partner's eyes.

"Never." She replied in a small voice.

Booth glanced over at his wife and sighed. Reaching over to her, he grabbed her hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"So can we agree on considering the piece of paper a clue?"

Temperance slowly turned to her husband and sighed.

"Fine."

Booth smiled at her.

"You're doing the right thing, Bones."

Temperance frowned.

"I don't know what that means."

Booth chuckled.

"What?"

"It just feels like the old days. You know, me calling you Bones and you telling me you don't know what I mean. It just feels weird."

"Why did you start calling me Bones again, anyway? It's been ages since you've done it."

"I'll only call you Bones at work. I guess it just comes with the territory. Me back at the Jeffersonian and working with you again equals me calling you Bones. It's more professional."

Temperance quirked an eyebrow.

"Calling me Bones is more professional?"

"It's better than Baby or Honey."

"Good point. Could you drop me off at the hospital?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw her husband stiffen.

"Why?"

He was controlling his anger, she knew it.

"I want to visit Ryan."

"Sure." Booth replied through gritted teeth. "But how will you go back to the lab?"

"The hospital is fifteen minutes away from the lab. I'll walk."

"Are you sure? Because I could wait for you."

"Booth." Temperance warned.

"Sorry."

On that, Booth passed the exit for the Jeffersonian and continued down the highway.

* * *

She never thought she'd set foot in this hospital again. She had spent so much time in this building that she had begun to know every corner of it. The walls seemed too familiar, the elevator still smelled like the mysterious fever that had plagued the city and she avoided at all costs the sixth floor. Not that she would need to go up there. Ryan was on second. She could take the stairs if she wanted. She wouldn't. The elevator attracted her like a moth to a flame.

The doors chimed open and Temperance stepped into the shaft. She immediately joined by two nurses and a doctor. She smiled politely at them. One of the nurse vaguely resembled Lily, her daughter's nurse.

Second floor, Temperance got out, leaving the hospital staff behind her. Room 215, Angela had told her best friend. She'd find Ryan there in casts and bandages.

201, 203, 205, 207... she passed them all until she reached the end of the hallway. 215 was written in metal block letters. She knocked softly on the door before slowly opening it. In his bed laid her partner.

"Tempe?"

Ryan sounded surprised.

"Hey." Temperance replied as she slid inside the room and closed the door behind her.

An empty stood on the other side of the room.

"Alone?"

"My neighbor got out yesterday." Ryan replied as he tried sitting up in his bed.

He winced in pain.

"Don't move. You'll only hurt yourself more."

"Okay, _Doctor_." Ryan replied, mockingly.

Temperance shook her head and chuckled. Pulling a chair up to her partner's bed, she sat down. Silence fell upon the room.

"This isn't a social visit." Ryan said after a few seconds of silence. "There's something bothering you."

Temperance sighed.

"How did you know?"

"I can read you like a book, Temperance. What's up?"

"It's the case we're working on."

Ryan nodded.

"Everything is so weird about it. First my daughter finds three sets of remains in a basement, along belonging to three nine-year-old girls who once lived in the very house where the remains were found. One sister of the victims claims that they were visited at night by this strange, shadowy man and that sometimes a little girl came as well. Another one told us about a strange man lurking about their house every night around five o'clock. My own daughter told us this morning that the ghost of a little girl, one who also lived in that house, died but wasn't found among the remains, came to visit her in the middle of the night, gave her a piece of paper with the number 8 written on it and told her to help them, whoever _them _is."

"And of course, Booth wants you to believe your daughter."

"How did you know?"

"I have daughters of my own, Tempe, in case you didn't remember."

Temperance nodded.

"What do you think?"

Ryan sighed.

"Well I think that this bed is really uncomfortable and I can't wait to go home."

Ryan smiled teasingly at her, making his partner chuckle.

"About the case, I meant."

It was Ryan's turn to chuckle.

"About the case, I think you shouldn't let your own opinions and beliefs stand in the way in this investigation. Sometimes, there are things that happen to you that you can't understand."

"Am I supposed to read between the lines here and see that something bizarre has happened to you in the past?"

"I was thirteen years old, a real loser and a bookworm. It past midnight and I was walking home from a friend's house. Everything was dark and calm until I heard this engine behind me. I immediately knew it was a car so I stepped onto the curb. The car was coming fast and I suspect, to this day, that the driver was drunk. Anyway, long story short, the car began heading directly for me. I didn't know at the time since I had my back to it. The lights illuminated me, that's when I turned around to find the car only inches away from me. Next thing I knew, I was being lifted up in the air and I saw the car pass right under me. The car crashed into a nearby tree and I was set back onto the grass, away from the car. Before anyone even had the chance to call the cops or the paramedics, I ran away from the accident and didn't stop running until I reached my house. It was the last time I ever walked alone late at night."

Temperance frowned.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"It's just so hard to imagine something like that happening. It's so illogical. Nobody can be lifted up from the ground."

"It was like a giant pair of hands grabbed me and lifted me up out of danger. It's a bit hard to describe, Tempe. I think you have to live it to fully understand it. What I mean to say is that to some people, strange phenomena like the one I lived or your daughter lived is hard to understand from an outsider's perspective. Someone once told me, and I think this person is currently sitting in front of me, that we can't rule out an explanation before the evidence proves it wrong. Don't make the same mistake all cops do at least once in their career. Don't rule out anything. Remember, there are three girls right now waiting for you to solve their murders, to give their parents the answers they have been longing for for so long. It's not about you and what you think, it's about them and what happened. Like you said, they were nine years old. Find the sick son of a bitch who took their lives."

Temperance nodded. Her partner was right. If she wanted to solve this case, she'd need to think beyond her beliefs and opinions. She'd need to open her mind to the possibilities that maybe part of solving this case would demand clues from ghosts. A tiny voice at the back of her mind told her she was being ridiculous. But at the moment, being ridiculous was the only thing she could be.

* * *

"Where were you? You're three hours late!" Angela asked her best friend as the forensic anthropologist unlocked the door to her office.

"We were running late this morning then I stopped by the hospital to see Ryan."

"How is he?"

"Better but he still looks like crap."

Angela nodded.

"I heard about Riley."

Temperance, who had her back to her friend, spun around.

"What about Riley?"

Just as Angela was about to reply, a ring interrupted her. Motioning to her friend that they'd talk right after the phone call, Temperance grabbed her cellphone and flipped it open.

"Booth."

"How I love hearing that name." A voice told her on the other side of the line.

"What do you want, Booth?"

"Eight years."

"What?"

"Eight years. The number 8 on the paper meant eight years. Each murder occurred at eight years of interval. The first one occurred in 1984. The second one, Melanie's, in 1992. Raine Bennett in 2000. Hope Lawson in 2008."

"2008?"

"Yes. 2008. It says so in the file."

"No, I believe you, Booth. But let's just say that you are right and the 8 really stood for eight years. That means..."

"Shit."

"We're in 2016."

"_Four girls, all nine years old, died in that house, Agent Booth. It's cursed. The house is cursed. Who lives there now?"_

"_A new family."_

"_Do they have a nine-year-old daughter?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Get her out of there."_

"_Mr. Pharatt, I can assure you that the little girl is fine."_

"_Get the little girl out of the house, Agent Booth, before it's too late."_

"Call Mackenzie's mother. Tell her we'll be taking her tonight." Booth said, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"It doesn't mean it's going to happen tonight."

"It doesn't matter. Do as you're told, please. I'll double-check the time line, to see if they all died on the same day."

"We won't be able to protect Mickey for the rest of her life, Booth."

"We'll at least be able to protect her for one night."

* * *

Everything was dark. There was something creepy about the basement: the way the stairs cracked under your feet, the way the darkness completely engulfed you the second you set foot on the cold cement floor. There were also these weird noises that could be heard, like the sound of whispering or the loud knocking that sometimes echoed throughout the house. They all came from the basement.

Feet slowly made their way down the stairs. They stopped at each step, as if scared to take another step. The fifth step always cracked the most and even under the tiny foot it cracked loudly. Something crept out from the darkness. Slowly. It twisted itself around the person's ankle, preventing it from taking another step. A cry pierced the silence of the basement. In a matter of seconds, a tiny body laid at the bottom of the stairs, a puddle of blood slowly spreading around the person's head. The shadow withdrew in the darkness and waited.

Colours from the television flashed across the white wall of the apartment. Clara, eyes round opened, stared blankly at the screen as news of David Pharatt's possible innocence in the murder of his daughter Melanie Pharatt was broadcast throughout the state of Virginia.

* * *

**I would love to hear your thoughts about this story: do you find it interesting, confusing, weird, creepy? I have to admit, I'm having a lot of fun writing this and I just hope that you are having as much fun reading it.**


	6. Chapter 5: Clara

**A/N: I'm really glad so many of you are enjoying the story. Keep reading and reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: The opinions discussed in this chapter do not necessarily represent those of the writer.**

* * *

Another day. Another cold April day in the capital. The sun barely flew in through the shut drapes of the Deputy Director's window. The office was plunged in semi-darkness. The man sat at his desk, his eyes still set on the phone he had just hung up.

_There's a woman here to see you, Sir. _The secretary had said. _Can I send her in?_

He had agreed, with a weird feeling at the pit of his stomach. Without knowing quite why or where that feeling had come from, he was pretty sure this woman wasn't bringing good news. The woman had refused to state her name, saying that she would only speak to the Big Boss (her exact words). Cullen snorted. The Big Boss.

A knock at the door made him look up. A woman stood outside his office.

"Deputy Director Cullen?"

Cullen nodded.

"I'm Clara. May I have a word with you?"

And before Cullen even had a chance to reply, the woman stepped inside his office and made herself comfortable on a chair opposite of him.

* * *

"I don't know, Bones, but I have to go. Cullen wants to see me in his office." Booth said as he stepped inside the elevator shaft.

"Did he say why?" Temperance asked as she sat down at her desk.

"No. Only there was someone in his office he wanted me to meet."

Third floor. The doors opened.

"Strange."

One click on Inbox. No new messages.

"I'll call you later today. Maybe we could get some lunch." Booth said, making his way between the hundreds of desks.

"Maybe. I have a lot of work to do."

Turning off the computer screen and standing up.

"You have to eat."

The Deputy Director looked up.

"Listen, Bones, now I really have to go. Talk to you later."

The phone was flipped shut before Temperance even had the chance to step out of her office.

"Cullen, Sir, you wanted to see me?"

Cullen nodded.

Booth's gaze fell on the woman already seated in the office. Booth frowned slightly.

"Special Agent Booth, this is Clara. Clara, this is Special Agent Booth, the agent currently working on the 53 Maple Street case."

The woman stood up. Booth examined her.

Her face looked rather young and Booth wasn't sure if her gray hair was truly giving away her age or if it was maybe just stress or bad genetics that had given this young woman salt-and-pepper hair before her time. Their eyes locked and her blue eyes stared deep down into his eyes. Booth found himself feeling uncomfortable.

"It was as though she was trying to read me, Bones". He would later tell his wife. "It really freaked me out."

"Pleasure to meet you, Agent Booth."

Booth nodded politely.

Cullen motioned to both adults to sit down. Once seated comfortably, the man went on.

"Clara claims to be able to help with the case you and Dr. Br-Booth are working on."

Booth quirked an eyebrow. Cullen tried his best not to chuckle.

"Really?" Booth asked as he turned to the woman.

"David Pharatt _is_ innocent."

"What?"

"Little Melanie wasn't pushed down the stairs, she was tripped. The psychiatric report states that David Pharatt had a fear of the underground and had it for as long as he could remember. He _never_ went down to the basement, he always sent his daughter."

Booth nodded, skeptically. David Pharatt was afraid of basements? Melanie Pharatt had been tripped down the stairs? How could that woman know that? Who _was_ this woman? And how had she gotten her hands on a psychiatric report that he never knew existed?

"Can I ask who you are?"

"I'm Clara. I'm a psychic."

Booth thought he heard his boss snort beside him. He ignored him.

"A psychic?"

The woman nodded.

"I know it's a bit difficult to believe, Agent Booth. Many people react the same way you do. Yes I know what you're thinking. I can assure you, Agent Booth, that I did see something and what I saw is the truth. If you let me, I could help you with the rest of the case."

Booth remained quiet. Working a psychic? Were they _that_ desperate for clues that they would use unfounded information from a woman he had never seen or heard of before? He turned to his boss to find the older man avoiding his gaze.

He thought of his wife. He already knew how she would react to this… addition to their team. She would snort, similar to what Cullen had done and tell him that they couldn't believe a psychic, that they needed scientific evidence and not supernatural lies. She would add that the case was already bizarre enough that they didn't need to add a woman who claimed to be able to see in the past.

Booth felt torn. There had been cases in the past that were solved with the help of a psychic. Those women with supernatural powers had found skeletal remains and human corpses hidden in bushes and rivers from decades.

They had no other clues other than what the families of the deceased victims remembered. The children had simply vanished from the face of the Earth only to be found years later. David Pharatt claimed he was innocent, that he never killed his own daughter. Melanie Pharatt also lived at 53 Maple Street and now rested in the Winchester cemetery. The woman sitting beside him claimed to have seen the murder of little Melanie.

_She wasn't pushed. She was tripped._

Booth sighed as he turned to the woman.

"You _really_ think you can help?"

A smile tugged at Clara's lips.

"Absolutely."

* * *

Temperance sat quietly in her office. Piles of unopened folders piled on her desk, papers scattered across the service leaving only a small hole for the doctor's cup of coffee and a keyboard. Temperance sighed. She knew she needed to go through it but she just couldn't bring herself to open the folders. As usual, she had inherited the case. Large fire in an apartment building downtown, ten people dead, twenty others missing. They had wanted her to go downtown to help with the search. She had sent Zach and Monica instead. They had asked for her help in identifying the calcined remains found in the debris. She had agreed because Zach and Monica had already left for the scene of the fire.

Her cell phone rang. She ignored it. She had no time to spend on the phone. Besides, it was probably her husband calling to ask her to go out for lunch. She didn't have time for lunch. She needed to type in those reports.

The ring even stopped and Temperance let out a sigh of relief.

_Victim #1_

_Gender: Male_

_Age: 20 – 25 years old_

_Culture: Caucasian_

_Height: 6" – 6"3'_

_Victim #2_

_Gender: Fem…_

A knock at her door. Temperance stooped in mid-word and looked up. Booth stood in the doorway, smiling broadly at her. Temperance frowned. There was something about her husband's smile that made her think he had done something wrong. She knew him, she knew his habits.

"Booth, what are you doing here?"

Booth stepped aside to let a short woman into view. Temperance frowned.

"Dr. Booth, I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you." Clara said enthusiastically, stepping inside the office.

Temperance raised her eyebrows. Booth cleared his throat.

"Temperance, this is Clara. Clara, this is… well… you already know who she is."

"Of course I do." Clara replied, smiling brightly. "I've heard so much about her."

"Heard or seen?" Booth mumbled under his breath.

"What was that, dear?"

Booth shook his head.

"Nothing."

The woman nodded before turning back to Temperance.

"Agent Booth tells me that you're working on the 53 Maple Street case."

"Yes but I am not aloud to divulge any information at this point." Temperance replied, seriously.

"No need, dear." Clara said as she began examining Temperance's office. "I have my own way of finding out things."

"She's a psychic." Booth said.

Temperance's head snapped in his direction.

"What did you say?"

"Mrs. Clara…"

"_Miss _Clara." Clara corrected as she stopped in front of a painting hanging on the anthropologist's wall. "Who painted this?"

"Angela." Temperance replied, dismissively. "Psychic?"

Booth nodded.

"She says that David Pharatt is innocent, that his daughter was tripped in the stairs and not _pushed_ like the report states. There's apparently this psychiatric report on Pharatt's somewhere that claims that the man was afraid of underground rooms and never went down in his own basement."

Temperance raised her eyebrows.

"That's what _she_ says." Booth whispered to his wife.

Temperance rolled her eyes.

Clara turned around to face the couple.

"I would like to see the pictures of the other victims, if you don't mind."

"Actually-" Temperance started.

"Gladly." Booth replied, cutting her off.

Temperance glared at him. Booth simply motioned to go along. She sighed.

"Please, take a seat." Temperance said, trying her best to sound polite.

Clara thanked her before sitting down on the couch. Booth took place in an armchair while his wife rummaged through the files on her desk. Seconds later, she was joining them.

"Here they are." She said, dropping the large green folder on the coffee table.

Clara nodded politely.

"Would you mind placing them face down for me, dear? It's easier that way."

Temperance forced herself not to sigh. Opening the folder, she laid all three pictures face down on the table. Forcing yet another smile to the woman sitting on her couch, Temperance took a seat in the last empty armchair and watched, unimpressed, as Clara ran her fingers delicately over the turned photographs.

Clara remained silent. With her eyes closed, she slowly ran her fingers over the pictures. She stopped on the third one.

"Laura Joyce." Clara began, her voice low and eerie. "She was the first victim. She disappeared in an earthquake."

"Oh she's good." Temperance muttered under her breath.

Booth glared at her before sinking back in the comfy chair and watching in mild amusement the scene before his eyes.

"She wasn't alone. There was someone else in the room. A man. I can't see his face. He's wearing some sort of hood. He's slowly approaching the child. She's terrified. I can see it in her eyes. She recognizes him. She tries to get out of her bed but the man grabs her and spins her around. He flunks his hand on her mouth to prevent her from screaming. The other hand reaches for her throat. He's going to strangle her."

Clara gasped loudly. In a flash, her eyes snapped open.

"I'm sorry." The woman said. "There is just so much evil in this man. It took me by surprise."

Temperance raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"It's okay, Clara." Booth replied, unsure of what else to say.

"Let me try again. I promise this time I won't back out."

Booth nodded as he fought the urge to ask the strange woman from what she was planning on not backing out of. He watched as Clara slowly closed her eyes again.

"Write the number 1 on the back of Laura Joyce's picture." Clara instructed.

Booth, snatching a pencil from his pocket, did what he was asked. Temperance watched in disbelief.

Clara's hand stopped on the first picture.

"Number 2." She told Booth. "Raine Bennett."

Booth scribbled the number at the top of the picture.

"I see her. She's opening the patio door and telling her mother she's going to play outside. She's running down the steps and towards the woods behind her house. I don't see anyone with her. She's all alone. She slows down at the entrance of the bush. Slowly she walks inside. She stops. She hears something. There's something to her left. Movement. She continues walking. She's way past the point where her mother can keep an eye on her from the kitchen window. There's a stream not far. She's going to go play in the mud. Another noise. She stops again and turns to her left. There's something moving about in the trees. She looks down. A shadow is growing. She watches in fear as the shadow lifts something in the air. Then… darkness."

Temperance rolled her eyes. Would this ever end? She had work to do and no time to waste on idiocies like this one.

"I see her in her tub. She's playing happily with figurines. I can hear her laughing. She's so concentrated on her toys that she doesn't even notice the doorknob turning. Someone opens the door. I still can't see who it is. Hope sees the person and stops playing. She screams. The stranger locks the door and slowly makes his way to the child. I see a hand. It's grabbing Hope by the hair and forcing her into the water. She's struggling, kicking left and right. For some reason, water doesn't fall on the floor. The hand is still holding her down in the water, long after she's stopped struggling. After a minute, the stranger stands up and wipes his hand on something."

Clara opened her eyes.

"The story stops there."

Booth nodded.

"How can we be sure you're telling the truth?"

Clara raised her head and stared into Temperance's eyes.

"You don't believe me?"

Temperance swallowed before looking away. There was just something about that woman's eyes…

"It just doesn't make any sense. How can you say how these little girls died? There is no scientific proof to your method. I read bones; I can tell you exactly what happened to them before their lives were taken away from them. I can tell you their life's history. I can tell you what they did for a living. You…"

"I read people too, Dr. Booth. I simply do it in a different way. I see with my third eye how they died, just how you see them written in their bones. I can sense that nothing I will say will make you change your mind about me. I just have one tiny favor to ask you."

Clara paused.

"Would you flip over Laura's picture, please? The one your husband wrote the number 1 on."

Temperance glanced over at her husband. Booth blinked, telling her to do as she was asked. Temperance turned her gaze back to the pictures.

There were three. The third one on her left had the number 1 written on it. She felt ridiculous, following the orders of a woman who claimed to be a psychic. Psychics didn't exist. They were frauds. They pretended to be able to see in the past and the future and stole moneys from the people who came to see them for help.

If she was so sure of herself, why did she feel nervous? How did she knew that Laura Joyce would be staring back at her the second she flipped the photograph over?

_Get a grip, Brennan._ Temperance told herself.

Releasing a breath she hadn't known she had been holding, Temperance flipped the picture over.

Her breath caught in her chest as she stared into the brown eyes of Laura Joyce. Clara smiled.

"Raine Bennett's now."

Temperance sighed and shakily flipped the last one on her right. Raine Bennett's pretty face smiled back at her.

"No need to tell you that little Hope Lawson is hiding behind the middle one." Clara said as she flipped Hope Lawson's picture over.

"There are things you just can't explain, Dr. Booth."

Then, turning to Booth, she added:

"If you want absolute proof about Melanie Pharatt, you're more than welcome to excavate her and ask your wife to check out her remains. You will see that I wasn't lying. She was tripped, not pushed."

"I will take that in consideration." Booth replied, his throat dry.

"Also, you'll be able to find the psychiatric report at the Memorial Hospital where David Pharatt was evaluated. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go home. Visions are tire me out."

"No problem, Clara." Booth replied, standing up. "Bones, you coming?"

Temperance looked up.

"No. I have a lot of work to do here. I'll see you later tonight."

Booth nodded.

"See you tonight."

Clara followed Booth out of the Temperance's office. Waiting until they had disappeared out of sight, Temperance got up and closed the door. Snatching her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed the hospital number.

* * *

"Don't mind my wife. She can be a bit over-rational at times." Booth said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"I didn't mind. That's how you love her."

Booth frowned.

"I meant to ask you. How did you know we were married? I never told you we were."

Clara chuckled.

"It's my job to see things." Clara simply replied.

Booth nodded. As weird as this woman was, there was just something about her that made Booth want to believe in her special "abilities".

* * *

"I swear Ryan, it was like a freak show."

Ryan chuckled on his side of the line.

"I mean, I know you said I should open my mind for this case but this is just going overboard."

Ryan said nothing.

"Why are you so quiet?"

"I'm quiet because I don't have anything to say to you. I don't even know why you called me."

"I called you for advice?.

"Advice?" Ryan asked, the disbelief apparent in his voice. "Come on, Tempe. You already knew, way before you called me, what you needed to do."

Temperance sighed.

"You know me too well."

Ryan smiled tenderly.

"If you don't believe anything this Clara woman told you, just prove her wrong. You still have the bodies, right?"

"They can't be released before the end of the investigation."

"Examine them again. Maybe you'll see something Clara hasn't seen."

Temperance nodded.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. This Jell-O crap they give me is complete shit."

Temperance chuckled.

"The "crap" already implied that."

"Implied what?"

"Never mind. Talk to you later."

"Have fun, Tempe. Show that freak who's the boss."

Temperance chuckled as she hung up. Ryan had revived her confidence. But as the clock ticked closer to seven p.m., Temperance found her confidence flailing. The three bodies had been sent back to their storage unit and all Temperance had found were evidence corroborating Clara's visions.

Grabbing her coat and purse, Temperance left her office feeling helpless.

* * *

She wasn't sure if she was dreaming. The cold wind blowing on her bare legs sure seemed real but the roughness of the ground under feet as a strong pair of invisible hands set her back down felt weird. She tried to open her eyes but found that she couldn't.

Her breath turned ragged. The cold air filled her lungs painfully. The hands were back on her body, steadying her. She tried to move but she couldn't. Paralyzed. She was paralyzed.

She was standing on the edge of something. She could feel it. Behind her, something had pressed against her. In front of her, the void. In an instant, she felt herself falling.

A soft _thunk_ echoed through the night as Mackenzie's body hit the pavement.


	7. Chapter 6: Eight Years Later

**A/N: Well, I've managed to write a shorter chapter this time:-) Hope you like it. **

* * *

Paulina Cortez glanced at her watch and sighed. Seconds ticked away, the time slowly nearing 7:00 am. It had been a painfully long night. Not a lot of calls, not any real emergencies. She had been at work for close to ten hours. Only another hour and she could finally go home. How sweet it would be to lay down in bed, sink her head into her comfy pillow and finally start her voyage in the realm of dreams.

She was alone. The other dispatcher had called in sick. The flu, or something like that. Paulina didn't care. As much as she hated working alone, she didn't really like Tony. There was just something about him that gave her the creeps. Sure, he was really nice and still pretty good-looking considering his age. In the ten years they had worked together, Paulina had never once asked him his age. He was much older than she was, probably by ten or even maybe twenty years. She couldn't tell. Frankly, she didn't really care either.

Her stomach growled. There was a down-side to working alone. She couldn't just go down to the cafeteria and get herself something to eat. What if the phone rang while she was gone and that, this time, it was an emergency? She'd have to tough. She had eaten only hours ago, how could she still be hungry?

Somewhere in the hallways of the police station, Paulina heard some noise.

_Probably just a cop bringing in some drunk guy._ Paulina thought to herself.

Seconds later, the door to the 911dispatcher room opened. A young man walked in.

"Hey Polly!" The man said as he walked over to the empty desk in front of her. "Had a nice shift?"

"Not really." Paulina grumbled.

"Tony didn't come in?"

The woman shook her head.

" 'Said he was sick."

The young man nodded.

"Well he didn't look good when I last saw him. He almost looked like he was near having a burn out."

"Yeah because everyone can do a burn out working as a 911 operator in Winchester." Paulina said sarcastically as she stood up.

"Quiet night?"

"You have no idea. Mind if I leave you here for a few seconds? I'm going to get myself something to eat."

"Sure Pol, no problem."

The woman nodded in thanks before walking out of the room, leaving the young man alone behind her.

* * *

Her stomach welcomed the food eagerly. She slowly chewed on the buttered slice of bread. It was all that was left but it would have to do for now. Grabbing another one, she closed the small fridge door and walked out of the kitchen.

On her way back to her office, Paulina passed a few of her colleagues. She nodded politely at them. She knew them by name only. She had no clue what they did outside of the police station, if they had any families, or if they even lived in Winchester. She didn't need to know all that stuff. As long as they got along professionally, it would be enough.

She walked inside the operator room to find Justin, her colleague, on the phone.

_Finally._ Paulina thought to herself. _Maybe a little action._

She sat down at her desk just as Justin was hanging up.

"Man had a heart attack." Justin explained.

"Nothing extraordinary there, huh?" Paulina replied.

Justin shook his head.

"Feeling better?"

"Now that I've eaten something, yes."

Silence fell over the room. Justin leaned back in his chair and grabbed the newspaper he had brought with him. Paulina turned to her computer screen and began surfing the Net. Internet: her cure for boredom. Chin resting on her fist, she began navigating.

The ring of her phone startled her. She turned to it to find a red light blinking.

_Finally, a call._

She snatched the receiver of the hook.

"9-1-1, Winchester Police Station, what is your emergency?" Paulina said, dully.

* * *

Sirens blared throughout the city as paramedics and police cars sped through the streets of Winchester. People looked out their windows or stepped out on their porch to see what all the commotion was about.

Sgt. Ronald Fawkes was the first one to arrive on scene. Stepping out of his vehicle, he was immediately joined by two frantic parents.

"We just found her like this." The mother said.

"We don't know what happened." The father added.

The officer gently pushed them away.

"Where is she?"

The father pointed to a direction behind the house. Sgt. Fawkes walked in that direction. Slowly. Dreading to see what he would find laying on the pavement.

His toes curled and his blood froze in his veins. He was no doctor but he could easily detect her injuries. The way her leg stretched crooked, the puddle of dry blood circling her entire body told him her skull had been probably smashed. The little girl laid rigid on the ground.

With shaking hands, the young officer grabbed his radio.

* * *

The toasts popped out of the toaster, startling both Temperance and her husband.

"We need to get a new toaster." Booth said as he tried to calm the beating of his heart. "I'll die from a heart attack."

Temperance chuckled.

"Riley! Lukas! Breakfast is ready!"

The sound of footsteps was immediately heard above their heads. Soon, what seemed like a stampede came running down the stairs. Seconds later, shrieks and laughed could be heard in the hallway, immediately followed by the sound of one of the children bumping into the wall.

"You cheated!" Came Lukas's cry.

Riley stepped in the kitchen, laughing hysterically.

"I win!"

Seconds later, Lukas made his entrance.

"That's because you pushed into the wall you cheater!" Lukas replied, indignantly.

"Easy with the male ego." Temperance said as she set a plate of toasts on the table.

"I don't know what that means." Lukas answered as he grabbed a toast and placed it in his plate.

Booth chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." Booth replied. "Eat up."

Lukas sighed but obeyed.

"Is Julia coming today?" Riley asked.

"Yes, Julia isn't coming today. Sarah is going to babysit you."

"Who's Sarah?"

"It's Parker's girlfriend." Lukas replied, teasingly.

"Parker has a girlfriend?" Temperance asked, surprised. "You never told me that."

"I didn't even know myself, Bones."

Then, turning to his son, he added:

"Parker has a girlfriend?"

Lukas nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. In the next room, the telephone began to ring.

"I'll get it." Temperance said as she got up.

Booth nodded, absently.

"Since when?"

"A couple of weeks."

"You've met her before?"

Lukas shook his head.

"No, but I saw a picture of her in his room. I confronted him about it and he told me she was his girlfriend. Then before he left Sunday, he told me to be really nice with Sarah when she came to babysit on Friday or else I'd regret being born."

Booth growled softly.

"Well tell him it wasn't really nice of him to threaten you like this, next time you see him. But he's right. I want you to be really nice to Sarah today. She seems like a pretty sweet girl."

A noise made Booth look up. He found his wife staring back at him.

"Are you okay? You're pale."

"It's Mackenzie." Temperance replied, numbly. "It happened."

* * *

"Funny how Clara didn't see this coming." Temperance said as they pulled into the Roberston's driveway.

"Just you know, that's widely out of line." Booth replied, glaring at her.

"Sorry."

Turning off the ignition, the couple got out the SUV.

A crowd of police officers and forensics technicians had gathered at the back of the house. A police officer guarded the secured area. After showing them their ID, the couple ducked under the yellow tape and joined the crowd on the other side.

"Agent Booth?" A man asked.

Booth nodded.

"I'm Sergeant Fawkes."

"Sgt. Fawkes, this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Booth. She's a forensic anthropologist and she's working with me on the 53 Maple Street case."

"So you think this child's death and the 53 Maple Street case are related?"

"How can they be not?" Temperance replied. "It's the most logic conclusion."

"I was just asking, Dr. Booth. You two married?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Easy there, Bones." Booth whispered between clenched teeth.

"No reason. Just curious." Fawkes replied. "There's a forensics team already working on the victim. She was apparently pushed from the roof. Nobody saw or heard anything. I have a couple of men up on the roof looking for any clues but so far none. We also have no idea how the child was brought there."

Booth nodded.

"The parents?"

"Inside with a colleague of mine. Feel free to ask them any questions but I'm telling you now, you won't learn much from them. They just found her this morning. They didn't know she had been taken."

Booth turned to his wife.

"Stay here. I'll go talk to Mickey's parents."

"Mickey? You knew this girl?"

Booth had already begun to walk away.

"She was my daughter's best friend."

Fawkes swallowed.

"Shit."

* * *

He found the Robertsons just where he thought he would: sitting in their living room, Mickey's mother quietly sobbing in her husband's arms. Booth's heart broke at the sight and he immediately thought of his daughter: how were they going to announce to her that her best friend had been murdered?

"Richard?" Booth asked, unsure.

The Robertson couple looked up.

"Seeley." Lucy replied.

"I'm very sorry about Mackenzie."

The couple nodded.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"No, go ahead. But we won't be able to tell you much."

Booth sat down in an armchair.

"When did you find your daughter?"

"It was a little past seven. Maybe quarter after." Lucy replied, trying her best to control her sobs. "I went to stand at the sink to wash the strawberries I was planning on using for breakfast when I saw her just... laying there. Face down. I knew instantly that something was wrong so I called Richard."

Richard nodded.

"I was upstairs when I heard my wife scream my name. I ran downstairs and she pointed out the window. I just knew something had arrived. I looked out and saw my daughter. There was dry blood everywhere. Her leg was crooked, her arm was under her. I ran outside. She was rigid and I knew she was dead. I still checked her pulse."

A few tears ran down the man's face. Booth smiled, sympathetically.

"And you didn't know she was out there?"

The couple shook their heads.

"Can you tell me exactly what you did from dinner last night 'til this morning?"

"Mickey did her homework quietly in her room and William went to a friend's house. They didn't have any school today so I figured he could go. Richard and I watched a movie. I put Mackenzie to bed at the same time as usual, around nine o'clock. Everything was okay."

"What time did you go to bed at?"

Lucy thought for a second.

"Around midnight. Maybe one in the morning. We ended up watching another movie after putting Mickey to bed."

"And you didn't notice anything weird or suspicious?"

Lucy shook her head.

"No. Nothing."

"And over the night, you didn't hear anything? Noise? Suspicious activities?"

"No."

"And you Richard?"

"Nothing."

Booth nodded before standing up.

"We'll keep you posted." Booth said.

Lucy nodded.

"Say hello to Riley for us. Hopefully she won't be too devastated."

But Booth knew his daughter and knew how she was. She got attached to people easily.

Booth walked out of the living room, leaving the couple alone behind him.

Outside, the forensics team was zipping the blue bag containing Mickey's body. He joined his wife at the front of the house. Temperance motioned to him that they should be leaving.

It wasn't until they had turned out of the Robertson's street that Temperance dared to mention her daughter's best friend.

"Broken leg, broken arm, fractured skull. She died on the impact. There are a few marks on her arms, showing that she somehow carried out of the house. No signs of struggle anywhere. A tox screen should determined if she was drugged. By the way she landed on the ground, we think she was pushed off the roof."

Booth nodded.

"You okay?"

He turned to his wife.

"How are we going to tell Riley?"

Temperance sighed.

"I don't know."

From the depth of her pocket, Temperance's cellphone vibrated. Taking it out, she flipped the phone open.

"Booth."

Her husband glanced briefly at her.

"What? Angela, slow down. I can't understand a word you're saying."

A pause. Booth felt his heart stop beating.

"We'll be right over." Temperance said before hanging up.

The SUV stopped at a red light.

"It was Angela." Temperance said, shocked. "She's in labor."

* * *

**Uh ooooh...**


	8. Chapter 7: The Reasons Why I Did

**A/N: Two short chapters in a row. I'm amazed! Hope you like this one and keep on reviewing!**

* * *

The bed had been neatly made. The discarded clothing, the flowers, the cards had all been packed. The TV had been turned off, the remote control resting as always on the nightstand. Her friend was busy loading up her car to drive her home. Angela sighed. She wasn't ready to go back home.

* * *

Silence hung heavily in the small car as Temperance drove out of the hospital parking lot. Two days had passed since Angela's call and Temperance was now finding herself driving her best friend back home from the hospital. She didn't dare to talk. And even if she did, she wouldn't know what to say. Was there even anything to say? Temperance knew from experience that no words would make her friend feel any better. She was hurting. She was scared. And only time, and good fortune, would make her feel better.

She thought of her husband, back in Winchester, visiting the Robertson house with the psychic. Clara had demanded to visit the house. Temperance had objected to the idea. After all, Richard and Lucy had just lost their daughter. They didn't need a 'psychic' telling them what had happened to the little girl. They knew. At least, they thought they knew but even the doubtful truth was enough for them. For now. Besides, what would bringing a psychic in prove? That Mackenzie was dead? Well, that was obvious. All scientific evidences pointed towards death. Then what? Nothing. There was nothing else Clara would be able to prove.

Riley had cried... a lot. She had woken up in the middle of the night and had walked in her parents' bedroom and asked to sleep with them. Temperance had refused but Booth had convinced her otherwise.

She's just lost a very important person in her life.

So the child had climbed in between them and had snuggled against her father. Temperance had then fought the feeling of jealousy that had spread through her at the thought that her daughter had chosen her father over her as source of comfort. But that feeling had soon disappeared when she had fallen back asleep.

She hoped her daughter would be okay, that she wouldn't close up just like she had after her parents had disappeared. It had taken her years to open up after that, decades more specifically, and even to this day she found it hard to trust strangers. Booth had helped, soothed a few of her pains and healed a couple of her deepest wounds. But they were still there. There were still scars, scars that threatened to reopen at the next stab of betrayal.

Angela had been stabbed badly... twice: once by life, then by Hodgins. Still, Temperance found that her best friend was so much stronger than she was. Even though she had been through difficult things in her life, she still found the strength to get up every day and face the day with a bright smile. She was still capable of laughing, of having fun, of living life to the fullest. Temperance wondered where she had gotten that strength. Had she simply been born with it or had she chosen to live that way? Did people choose that kind of thing?

Temperance sighed, irritatedly. Why did bad events always brought out her philosophical side? Why couldn't she just hide behind science, hard evidence to mask her pain? Why couldn't she put her heart into a little box anymore when it came to emotional stuff?

"Why did you sigh?"

Her best friend's voice brought her back to reality.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I asked you why you sighed."

"Nothing. Just thinking about things."

Angela nodded.

"Was it hard?" Angela asked after a few more seconds of silence.

Her voice had cracked slightly and Temperance felt a pang of pain in her chest.

"What was hard?"

"Leaving your child in the hospital."

Temperance sighed.

"Yes." She replied, after a couple of seconds. "Giving birth was nothing compared to leaving Riley behind. I had Lukas with me but it's still wasn't the same. I had two children, not one. I felt like I was bringing back only half of myself."

Angela chuckled softly.

"What's so funny?" Temperance asked, glancing briefly at her friend, chuckling herself.

"Nothing. I just didn't know you could be that deep."

"Well you asked me how I felt, I told you."

"It's okay, Sweetie. I get it."

A short pause.

"Did you get used to it? I mean, not having your baby around?"

Temperance shrugged.

"You learn to live with it. Then again, Riley only spent an extra week in the hospital after we left. They just wanted to make sure she was healthy and strong before they sent her home. It's two different cases here, Ange. I'd love to help you out, but I'm afraid I can't."

Angela nodded.

"How long did they say they were keeping Kyle?"

"Eight weeks, maybe more... if he survives."

"You were a bit more than six months pregnant. A feotus is viable at that point."

Angela shrugged.

Temperance slowly pulled into her friend's driveway and parked her car behind her friend's. Quietly, the two friends stepped out of the vehicle and began unpacking. Temperance watched as her friend went back and forth between the car and her house. There was something about the way she walked that told Temperance how sad she was really feeling. Her movements were slow, her eyes seemed to be staring past her in some kind of void. Her friend needed some sleep, she knew that. But she also knew that sleep wouldn't come until her son was home, safe and sound.

After all was brought into the house, Temperance made herself comfortable in the living room. Angela came slumping back beside her seconds later.

"You never told me why you did it."

Once again, Temperance found herself confused and unsure of what her friend was talking about.

"Can you be clearer when you speak, please?" Temperance asked, mildly annoyed.

"Kids. You never told me why you had them. I mean, you talked our ears off about how you didn't want children. You gave us anthropological speeches for years about how in some cultures children weren't important or something other crap like that. Yet, you were the first one of us to get pregnant and start a family."

"It's not like I chose that life." Temperance replied, indignantly.

But deep down, she knew she had.

"Oh yes, you did. You could have chosen other contraceptive methods other than the pills. You could have gotten your ovaries tied. You could have even decided not to keep the baby after you found out you were pregnant. I'm pretty sure you could have given us millions of speeches on how, some time in evolution, mothers killed their own children. There was another reason. One you never told anyone or maybe that you didn't even know yourself."

"Are you drunk?" Temperance asked, confused.

"No. Why?"

"I mean, you used to give me speeches like that when you were drunk. I'm just asking you if you are at the moment."

"No, Sweetie. I'm very much sober. It's just that having Kyle changes my perspective on life. I know, I've only had him for two days but that's the effect he has on me. I immediately realized the people I think I know aren't really who I think they are. Understand?"

"I guess."

"I mean, take Jack for example. I send him an e-mail telling him that I've had our child, he doesn't even write back or call. I've always thought that Jack was somewhat of a responsible and caring man, in spite of his conspiracy crap. I guess I was wrong, huh?"

"It's only been two days, Angela. Maybe he hasn't even checked his e-mails yet."

"Oh he has, trust me."

"Okay."

"So, why did you do it?"

Temperance sighed. She knew her friend wouldn't change the subject unless she gave her an answer, an honest answer.

"One thing that is true, Angela, is that I did not want children. Of course, as a child, I wanted to get married and start a family. But so many people I knew got divorced and my love life got so complicated that it's led me to believe that marriage was only a piece of paper indulging stress. Just look at Booth and I. He proposed four years after we first started dating. The first four years were great, then the two after our wedding. But then things started to go downhill for us. We fought more, we even thought of divorcing. It's weird but before we got married, we barely ever fought like we did afterwards."

"There could have been another reason to that."

"Ryan has nothing to do with this, Angela."

"If you say so, Sweetie. Booth has always been jealous of the guys in your life. And if you hate marriage so much, why did you say yes?"

"I don't know." Temperance replied, irritatedly. "Are you a psychologist all of a sudden? And weren't we talking about why I had my children?"

"Hey, you're the one who mentioned your marriage. Not me."

Temperance rolled her eyes.

"Anyway. When I first found out I was pregnant, my first idea was to get an abortion. I never told anyone because I knew how you would all react. Besides, it was a decision that regarded me and me only. But then you mentioned Booth and I knew that he deserved to know. He deserved to know about that child he had created, even though I didn't plan on keeping it."

"So you kept it out of respect for Booth?"

"Not at first."

"Oh."

"Booth left before I even had the chance to tell him I was pregnant. Every day while he was gone, I worried about him."

"I remember."

"And every day, I told myself that I could just do it. That he would never know. That I could go back to just being Dr. Temperance Brennan and not Dr. Temperance Brennan who is expecting a baby.

I had my first ultrasound and that's when things changed. I heard the tiny heartbeat and I felt this rush of love that I never thought I'd be able to feel. It scared the hell out of me. That's when my resistance of keeping the baby started to falter. I had this urge to protect the life growing inside of me, to bring it into this negative world and love it just like it deserved. I was scared but it was a good fear.

Booth came back a couple of days later and I told him about the baby. After he was done freaking out, I immediately felt safer. Suddenly, the fear of having a child subsided because I knew Booth was there.

I don't know what changed, Angela. I can't even explain it. All I knew is that it did. I never truly believed in maternal instincts since there are no scientific evidences that it does exist but a small part of me believes in it."

Angela smiled.

"I knew you were a softy, Temperance." She teased.

Temperance rolled her eyes.

"Did I answer your question, now?"

Angela nodded. She yawned.

"You should get some sleep."

Angela shook her head.

"No. Every time I close my eyes, I see Kyle. I see him all small and fragile in his plastic bed. I see him die, Temperance. I see him stop breathing. I can't go to sleep."

Tears quickly spilled from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. Temperance smiled sympathetically. She didn't know what else to do. She tried to put herself in her friend's shoes. She thought back to when she learned that Riley was sick. All she had done was cry and nobody had tried to stop her. She remembered feeling grateful for that. So, taking her friend's hand in hers, Temperance let her cry.


	9. Chapter 8: EB

**A/N: Wow! When I first started writing this chapter, I thought to myself: "I won't have anything to write about for this one". Seriously, the plot for this chapter was quite simply but changed into something a bit more complex. Hope you like it, I've had fun writing it. I just love Clara for some reason! She reminds me of Booth's mother in "Remember Our Promise?".**

* * *

He couldn't believe he was doing that. Mackenzie had only been dead for three days and Clara was already requesting a visit to the Robertson's home. The couple had agreed, probably thinking it would help them bring closure to a story they didn't want to live in the first place.

He still couldn't believe that little Mickey was dead. He had seen her only a couple of days ago, so happy to be coming to sleep over at her best friend's house on a school night. Booth felt guilty. They had only protected her for a night and she had ended up getting killed practically the next day.

He was now positively certain that a serial killer was at large in his quiet town of Winchester. But who? And, most importantly, why? Why Winchester and why these girls?

As he turned the corner on Maple Street, Booth eyed suspiciously a man crossing the street. Could he be the killer? Probably not. Then who was? Would he have to suspect everyone in his town?

Another question was popping up. Why that house in particular? Why every eight years? Did it take the killer so many years to plan the murders or was it simply a coincidence, that he simply had a thing for nine-year-old girls and he was just waiting for them to hit the big 9? But Mickey had been about to turn ten and so had been Laura Joyce, the first victim. Something wasn't right. All the murders had been done on an April 23rd. Why that particular date?

So many questions without answers. Booth glanced briefly at the woman sitting beside him. Would she be able to give them answers?

Bones had refused to accompany them. He could understand why but he still wished she would have come. But she had Angela to take care of. Angela who had just given birth to a premature baby. He'd had a preemie himself, he knew how she was feeling.

He parked the SUV in front of the Robertson's house. The couple had left their cars out in the driveway, preventing Booth from parking in it. Turning off the ignition, he turned to Clara.

"Now listen. These people just lost their daughter. I don't want you to make them feel any worse than they already are."

"I'm not your partner, Agent Booth. I'm really not like Dr. Booth. I know how to talk to people."

Booth frowned. It hadn't been quite what he had meant. He bit his tongue, holding back the question of how she knew his wife was like that to slip out. He already knew her answer. And he was no psychic.

They got out of the car and walked up to the front door in complete silence. The doorbell seemed to ring louder than usual in the stillness of this Sunday morning. Even the footsteps coming from inside the house seemed to echo loudly in his ears. His gut feeling told him that it hadn't been a good idea to come here today. But what Booth didn't know is that his gut feeling would turn out to be right.

* * *

The door in front of them opened. A tall woman with dark brown hair opened the hair. Booth smiled sympathetically at her. Lucy smiled sadly back at him.

"I'm so sorry to bother you." Booth said, honestly.

"No problem, Seeley." Lucy replied. "Anything you need to do to find Mickey's killer, I'll accept."

Lucy's eyes went from Booth to the other woman.

"I'm Clara." Clara said, introducing herself. "I'm the reason why Agent Booth is so sorry to bother you on this day."

"Hi."

"Clara is a..."

"Psychic." Clara finished for him. "He still has trouble saying that word. It's probably because of his wife. She's not a firm believer in my line of work. Would you mind if we came in? I'd like to get acquainted with your house, if you don't mind."

Lucy frowned slightly.

"Not at all."

Her voice betrayed her skepticism but Clara didn't seem to pick up on it. Instead, she stepped inside the house and shivered.

"I sense a dark presence in this place." She said, her voice suddenly lower.

Booth took a deep breath, trying his best to soothe the annoyance that had just surprised him. He could almost hear his wife make a sarcastic comment beside him.

He followed Clara around the house and watched somewhat curiously as the psychic made her way around each room, examining closely each corner of it and trailing with a finger some objects.

"Mackenzie was a very happy child, Mrs Robertson." Clara said somewhat dreamily. "And despite what she went through a couple of nights ago, she's still happy."

Behind Booth, Lucy let out a small squeal.

"Clara, I don't think..."

"It's okay." Lucy immediately interrupted.

Booth turned to face the woman.

"Really, it's okay." Lucy repeated, wiping a single tear falling from her eyes. "I need to hear this. I'll be fine, I promise."

Booth nodded, a bit unsure. Was this what Lucy truly needed? A psychic going through her house, examining items and talking about Mickey like she had known her all her life? There was something wrong about this, Booth thought. How could Lucy be okay with this when he, himself, felt like he had just let an impostor in his daughter's friend's house? He almost felt like he was betraying the memory of this adorable little girl who had died way before her time.

Clara grabbed a picture frame from a shelf and smiled tenderly at the children on the picture.

"He put up a fight, didn't he?" Clara asked, looking up at Lucy.

Lucy, momentarily stunned, took a few seconds before answering.

"Yes." She said, in a whisper. "Will didn't want to go take pictures. He said pictures were for girls. He threw just a fit that day. But the second the photographer handed him his baby sister, he just stopped. Mickey always did that to him. Maybe not as much today, you know how teenagers can be."

"Yes." Clara replied even though she couldn't have known by experience.

"How is Will?" Booth asked.

"Okay, I guess. He doesn't talk much. He just sits around in his room, listening to music- if you can even call what he listens to music-, playing computer games or reading. He only leaves his bedroom to eat dinner and go to school."

"If I remember well, William wasn't here the night Mickey died."

"No, he wasn't. He was sleeping over at a friend's house. He came back maybe an hour after the police left. He didn't know a thing. We had to break the news to him."

Lucy began sobbing. Booth slowly reached out to her and squeezed her shoulder.

As suddenly as Lucy had started sobbing, she stopped and looked up at Clara.

"Would you like to see the rest of the house?"

Clara set the picture frame back onto the shelf.

"Actually, I would like to see her bedroom now."

They walked in silence and Booth almost felt like he was practicing for tomorrow's funerals. In a straight line, the trio trooped up the stairs and down a hallway. Everything was quiet, the hallway seemed like it had fallen asleep for a while. It was dark, no windows were there to brightened the gloomy atmosphere.

Each step brought him closer to the bedroom. Her bedroom. He momentarily forgot why he was there. His thoughts brought him back to over a decade earlier.

* * *

How could a child simply vanish from the face of the Earth? _Booth thought as he opened the door to the small room._

_The walls were baby blue and a net hung above the bed. A large Barbie with long brown hair was smiling brightly back at him. Ballet slippers hung from the ceiling in the corner of a room. The sun was shining through the window, brightening the room softly. A ray of dust flew gracefully in the air._

_Booth sat on the bed and rubbed his eyes. This was simply ridiculous. Raine Bennett had simply walked out of the bed only to never be seen again. There were no clues as to where she had gone off, the small wood behind the house had been searched thoroughly and there were no signs of her._

_Down the stairs, Booth could hear Raine's mother walking about the kitchen, trying desperately to keep herself busy in order not to think of her daughter. Booth knew the woman was unstable. He knew that this would only aggravate her situation. It made him feel powerless that he couldn't help her._

_He thought of his baby son in Washington. If someone was to take him, he knew he'd probably die. But more importantly, he would want someone looking for him. He would want to know that someone out there cared about his son enough to search for him and maybe be lucky enough to bring him back to safety._

_He turned to the next bed. That one white. There was no drawing, no Barbies staring back at him. Only white. White comforter. Simple. Just like Raine had been. A simple child who never asked for anything, who simply made her way into the world as quietly as possible._

I'll find you. _Booth thought, his mind momentarily clouded by emotions._ Even if it takes me all my life, I'll find you.

* * *

Booth shook his head, as if doing so would clear his mind of the memory of Raine Bennett.

He looks up to find Lucy slowly opening the door to her daughter's room. Booth's breath catches in his throat as a light pink wall slowly comes into view. Pink. Not blue.

The trio stepped inside the room and Booth's eyes immediately went to the left corner of the room. There was no ballet shoes hanging from the ceiling. There was no net about the bed and Starla the Starlet was staring back at him, not Barbie had a decade ago. Being in that room felt weird to Booth. Everything had changed. The room was still the same yet it was different at the same time.

He watched as Clara began examining the room. Her eyes slowly circled it, as if seeking for invisible information, information she was the only one able to see. Booth felt as though she was trying to connect with the room, as crazy as it sounded to him.

"There's something in this room." Clara said as she lightly touched the wall.

Her finger traced the contour of the light switch. Her eyes seemed to question what she was feeling.

She traced the switch for a few more seconds before stepping further inside the room. She passed the bed and went to the window. Suddenly, Booth felt as though this visit had nothing to do with Mackenzie.

"This is where he got in." Clara said to no one in particular.

She traced the window frame with her left hand.

"It exploded but it wasn't from the earthquake. It was him."

"Who's him?" Booth asked, suddenly understanding that she was describing Laura Joyce's kidnapping.

"I can't see his face again. It's the same man, I know it."

She stopped. Lucy and Booth glanced briefly at each other before turning back to the psychic. A strange noise reached Booth's ears. Turning around, he saw nothing. Frowning, he turned back to Clara who was still standing at the window.

Her eyes were focused somewhere into the void. When Clara stared directly at him, Booth was pretty sure she was looking past him. Something brushing past him startled him. He looked around the room in search of a cat or a dog but found nothing. A voice at the back of his head told him that he already knew the Robertson had no dogs or cats. Booth shivered.

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Cold grabbed hold of his hands and spread throughout his entire body. He searched Clara's eyes for an answer to what was going on but Clara's eyes were still unfocused. He turned to Lucy. She seemed unaware of the temperature change.

"That's all I can learn from this room." Clara said, out of the blue.

Lucy turned to the woman.

"What you just described... it had nothing to do with my daughter, didn't it?"

Clara shook her head.

"No. I'm sorry. But I describe what the spirit tells me. And the spirit here told me that the window was busted by a man and not the earthquake."

Lucy frowned.

A noise in the hallway startled the three adults. Three heads spun in the direction of the open door to find the hallway empty.

"Is it just me or is it cold in here?" Lucy finally asked.

Booth let out a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't crazy.

"It's normal that a room feels cooler where there is a ghost present inside."

"A ghost?"

"Not just one ghost. This house is populated by spirits. Some good, some bad. The one in this room is called Laura Joyce. She was the first of the victims. She vanished during an earthquake."

"What are you talking about?" Lucy asked, confused.

_"This house is haunted, Mom. I'm telling you."_

_"The house isn't haunted, William, now will you just go to bed please?"_

_"So you're saying that the slamming of the door we just heard was caused by the wind?"_

_"Mom! I can't find my shoes!"_

_"They're at the front door."_

_"No they're not."_

_"Yes they are, I just che...cked."_

"They had disappeared." Lucy whispered.

"What?" Booth asked, unsure of what she had just said.

"The children. Both of them. They complained. They complained that their belongings were disappearing, that doors were being slammed shut on their own, that there were weird noises coming from the basement. I dismissed them, told them that they were only imagining stuff but now..."

Clara smiled, reassuringly.

"Children are often sensitive that this kind of things. They often see or hear things that adults don't because they have just simply stopped believing. I, for one..."

Booth tried his best to listen intently at Clara's speech on extrasensory perception but found himself incapable of doing so. He stared politely at Clara, pretending to be listening when something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Movement. On the floor.

He tore his eyes from Clara and looked down. Beside Lucy's foot laid a small stuffed bunny rabbit. Booth cleared his throat.

"Ladies."

The two women turned to him. With a slightly shaking finger, he pointed at the inanimate object on the floor. Lucy frowned.

Clara stepped over on the other side of the bed and looked in the direction of Booth's finger. Slowly, she crouched down and picked up the rabbit. It was yellow and dirty, obviously old.

"Is this Mickey's?" Booth asked, knowing fully well the answer simply by looking at the stuffed animal.

"No. I've never seen that toy before. Where did it come from?"

Booth shrugged.

Both women leaned in to take a good look at the rabbit.

Where had that rabbit come from? Booth was certain the toy hadn't been on the ground when they had first walked in. The stuffed animal wasn't big but wasn't small either. They would have seen it. Could one of the spirits Clara had been talking about have put it there?

_Seeley, you're being ridiculous._ He could almost hear his wife say.

There was no spirit inside that house. The cold air had probably just swept in from the window. This was an old house. It probably wasn't even insulated very well.

Without knowing why, Booth slowly turned around. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell on a little girl standing beside the stairs.

_"Melanie Pharatt visited me last night. She told me to help her."_

Booth felt his insides freeze as he locked eyes with Melanie. Then, in an instant, she vanished leaving Booth blinking unbelievably at the empty space.

"There's something written on its leg." Lucy said.

Booth spun around just as Clara was flipping the bunny over.

"Give me that." Booth said a little harshly.

With his heart still pounding inside his chest, he snatched the toy from the psychic's hands and examined the toy's leg. The letters E and B were stitched on the back of the rabbit's leg. Booth frowned. E.B.? Who was E.B.?

* * *

**So... what do you think?**


	10. Chapter 9: My Daughter

**A/N: Quick note before you start reading. Nobody seemed to have picked up on it but just in case you were wondering, Starla the Starlet is a TV character I made up for the last chapter. Since this story takes place 9 years from now, I couldn't really use a popular character from today to put on that bedspread. lol Just one small thing I wanted to say, just in case some of you were confused.**

**Again thanks for your reviews. I'm glad I'm creeping some of you (I'm so mean!).**

* * *

She hadn't thought a visit to the Robertson house would have led to much but when her husband had come back looking rather pale, with a new piece of information, Temperance couldn't argue with him. She wasn't sure how the stuffed rabbit could be considered evidence but she had to agree, as unimpressed as she had been of Clara's trip into the paranormal world that was now Mickey's bedrom, that the rabbit posed a problem. If it in fact didn't belong to Mickey, then how had it gotten there? Had Mickey's mother put it there? Booth had told her no. She told him it was the only logical explaination. 

"It's not her, Bones." Booth said as they got ready to go to bed. " 

"Then who put it there?" 

"I don't know." 

"Why don't you ask the psychic then?" Temperance had asked, irritated. 

Booth had growled quietly. 

The word psychic had sounded like venom to Booth's ears. 

"I know you don't like her, Bones, but could you at least _try_ to respect her? She's helped us a lot, you know." 

"How has she helped us? All she did was describe the supposed crime scenes. She did nothing more." 

"She guessed whom the pictures belong to." 

"Exactly, Booth. She guessed. It was all just a string of luck." 

Booth had rolled his eyes at that. 

"I know you want to believe her, Booth. You want to believe that someone's spirit actually lives on after death because it's part of your belief. But it's impossible, Booth. Once someone dies, that person just stops existing. End of story." 

She had watched in mild surprise as her husband had jumped out of bed and grabbed a pillow. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Trying explaining that to your daughter that her best friend just stopped existing." Booth had simply replied before walking out of the room. 

Temperance remained silent. 

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight!" Came Booth's reply from her previous question. 

Temperance had half-expected her husband to come back in their bed over the night. But when, at three thirty in the morning, sleep finally claimed her, she was still alone in the room. It was with a heavy heart and stinging red eyes that Temperance woke up three hours later, not even realizing she had cried in her sleep. 

She sat watching her computer screen, reliving the previous night's argument. She was surprised. There were just so many of them that she was shocked they were still together after ten years. She had a hard time believing Booth hadn't left her for someone more like himself yet. They were so different; she had a hard time understanding their chemistry. Then again, maybe that was it. Maybe their clashing chemistry is what made their relationship exciting and not dull over the years. They had different fundamental beliefs but it was almost like they completed each other in that way. 

Even their parenting styles were different. She was more intellectual; she motivated her children to learn new things, to broaden their horizons, to almost think scientifically. Lukas was pretty good at it. He excelled in everything, even sports (which surprised her but enthused his father). He always had the highest grades in his class. 

Riley was different. She had gotten her father's intuitive side and Temperance sometimes wondered if maybe Riley was Angela's daughter instead of hers. She knew it was genetically and biologically impossible when she looked at her daughter, she could almost see her best friend. She loved drawing, she loved singing, and dancing. She made up complex stories for her age- and mental capacity- that made sense and flowed just like they should. She could spend days playing by herself with her dolls and stuffed animals. She was sweet, caring and quiet where Lukas was loud and adventurous. 

Then there was Brina, her youngest. Only two years old but Temperance could already guess that Bryn would be halfway between her brother and her sister in personality. She was stubborn like Riley but loved exploring like Lukas. Just like her brother, she loved to talk but she could be as quiet as a mouse when the circumstances demanded it. She was independent, just like her mother, always doing her little thing but the second someone was showing emotional distress, she was there. She didn't understand but it was as though it was part of her instincts to protect her loved ones. 

Temperance smiled as she thought of her children. She had never wanted any and now she couldn't imagine her life without them. They had become so important and she didn't even realize until now that her whole life now revolved around them, something she had never expected herself to do. She had been so self-sufficient, so in control of herself and her environment, so independent. She never would have guessed that this would have been her life today. She missed being carefree, working as long as she wished and doing as she pleased. But one look at one of her children filled her with so much love she thought her heart would explode. She thought of Booth and wondered if he felt the same about them. 

She thought of Lucy, who had been so nice with them since they had arrived in Winchester close to three years ago. Mackenzie, or Mickey as she liked to be called, and Riley had become instant best friends. It hadn't mattered to the little girl that Riley had learning disabilities, that she was slower than other children her age. It hadn't mattered to Mickey that her friend's parents had a lot of money, that Riley's father was a cop and her mother did something so secret she couldn't tell her own children. Mickey had simply accepted Riley the way she was, unlike what Booth and her had done. Sending Riley to a normal school had been the best move they could have made for their daughter. 

The sound of her cell phone ringing startled her. Picking it up, she glanced at the caller ID. Private number. Booth. Taking a deep breath, she flipped her phone open. 

"Booth." 

"Are you introducing yourself or saying my name?" 

The tone of his voice brought out a small smile out of her. She sighed in relief. 

"Both." 

She heard her husband chuckle on the other side of the line. There was a small silence quickly filled by the agent. 

"Emily Brown, 9 years old. Died eight years before Laura Joyce, killed by her father and lived at 53 Maple Street alone with him." 

Temperance's heart skipped a beat. 

"Much like Melanie Pharatt." Temperance replied. 

"More than you think. Emily's father always claimed that he never killed his daughter, that he is innocent. He got life without parole." 

"Huh. Well at least we got the E.B. figured out. Now all we need to find out is who put it there." 

"Or what." 

"Booth." Temperance warned. 

"What? I'm just saying." 

"Yeah right." 

"I also have more good news." 

"What?" Temperance asked, looking up to see Angela standing in the doorway. 

The artist mouthed to her friend that she would wait until she hung up. 

"We got the papers. Thursday, you'll be able to supervise the excavation of Melanie Pharatt's body and give it a thorough autopsy." 

A smile tugged at Temperance's lips. 

"Really?' 

"Really. You'll finally get what you wanted: show the psychic who's the boss." 

"Hey, that was actually a pretty good TV show." 

Booth frowned on his side of the line. 

"Who's the Boss… it was a TV show in the 1980s. I used to watch it." 

Booth chuckled. 

"I know what Who's The Boss is. My mom used to watch it all the time." 

Another pause. 

"Listen Bones, I gotta go. I'll search for more information on Emily Brown's father and I'll get back to you on that." 

"Okay. Oh, don't be late tonight." 

"Why is that?" 

Temperance's smile turned mischievous. 

"Let's just say I have some making up to do." 

Booth groaned. 

"That you do, Bones. That you do." 

On that, they hung up. 

"Hubby?" Angela asked as she walked inside the office. 

"Yes. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting." 

Angela flunk herself on her friend's couch. 

"Jack called." 

Temperance's head snapped up. 

"Really? What did he say?" 

"I don't know." Angela replied. "I missed the call." 

Letting out a cry of desperation, Angela fell into a fetal position on the couch. Unable to stop herself, Temperance let out a quiet laugh before shaking her head. 

"Sssshhh. Don't make too much noise. They'll hear us." Julia said as she sat down on her bed, the heavy box holding her mother's old Ouija board in her hands. "I'm not supposed to use it." 

"Why not?" Caroline replied, opening the lid. 

"Because. My mom says it's dangerous." 

"Wait. You mean to tell us that your mother is afraid of a plate of wood?" 

The two other girls present in the room snickered. 

"Stop it, you guys. It's my mother you're talking about." 

"Sorry." Caroline apologized half-heartily. "But Ju, I think you're overreacting. It's only wood. Nothing bad is going to happen to us." 

Julia nodded, unsure. She just had a bad feeling about this. 

The four girls gathered around the wooden board. Julia looked up at her best friend. 

"Come on." Caroline said. "We have to put our fingers on the triangle. Then we ask a question and whoever is present in the board is supposed to answer us." 

Lana, the shortest one of the group, and also the most skeptical one, snorted. 

"Quiet, you." Caroline warned. 

Lana rolled her eyes. 

"Okay." Caroline said before taking a deep breath. "Spirit, introduce you." 

The room fell silent as the teenage girls waited for something to happen. Slowly, the triangle under their fingers began to shake and Caroline squealed excitedly. 

"Sssshhh." The three other girls said. 

They watched as the wooden triangle slowly slid across the board. The silence, which had fallen on the room, seemed to have spread throughout the house. Not a sound could be heard from inside nor outside. It was as though the world had simply shut down around them. 

"Cameron Brown." Caroline whispered, her voice stuck in her throat. "His name is Cameron Brown." 

The three other girls stayed quiet. 

"Are you a good spirit?" 

Slowly, the triangle slid to "no". The four girls gasped. 

"I don't want to play this game anymore." Julia whined as she took her hands off the triangle. 

Caroline simply rolled her eyes. She was about to ask another question when a small voice interrupted her. 

"Let me ask a question." 

Caroline's head snapped up in the direction of her quietest friend. 

"You want to ask a question?" 

"Just let her, okay?" Lana replied, obviously bored of the game. 

"Fine." Caroline replied, sighing. 

"Did you commit a crime?" 

_Yes._

Caroline's eyes widened. 

"Did you steal?" 

_No._

"Did you kill someone?" 

_Yes._

Caroline and Quinn exchanged looks. 

"Who did you kill?" Caroline asked in a small voice. 

The four girls watched in terror as the plate moved from letters to letters to finally form an answer: _My daughter._


	11. Chapter 10: Quinn

**A/N: Sorry if it's taken me a long time to update but if you would have seen my life lately, you would understand. Three exams in the same week, studying, parties to go to, reading, catching up for classes, working... everything was just hectic. I'm not really satisfied of the beginning of this chapter, the end is more to my liking though. Hope you enjoy it anyway and don't forget to review at the end!**

* * *

Circle. It was exactly what they had been going around for two days straight. Booth hated when that happened. You had clues, you had some leads (as crazy as they could be sometimes) then you hit a dead end and didn't know what on Earth you were doing anymore. Nothing made sense. All of a sudden, strange girls appeared at the top of a staircase, old stuffed bunnies were being found on the floor and dreams was something you hadn't had in days because the second you closed your eyes you saw _her. _

He hadn't talked to Clara about it. Anyway, he was pretty sure she already knew. That woman was intuitive, even more so than his mother and his mother was good. How many times had she caught him sneaking something forbidden into the house or doing something he shouldn't have been doing? His mother had always seem to know exactly what he was doing at the exact moment he was doing it. Younger, he had thought his mother had superpowers. Mommy vision or something, at least. Now that he had met Clara, his mother simply seemed normal.

Somewhere outside his office, a phone rang and Booth heard one of the receptionnist answer. Judy was nice, he thought of her. A bit slow but she got the work done. He never had to ask twice to bring in a certain file or certain papers he needed to sign. They had hired her a year ago and was one of the few who could hold her own against Cullen.

A knock on the door made Booth look up from the papers he had been signing.

"Line 3 for you, Mr. Booth." Judy said, her smile stretching from ear-to-ear.

"Thank you." Booth replied, reaching over to his phone.

Judy nodded politely before walking away.

An arrow was blinking beside the "Line 3" button. Picking up the receiver, Booth pressed on the button.

"Agent Booth."

He heard a sharp intake of breath. Booth frowned.

"Hello?"

"Agent Booth?"

A small voice. Young.

"Yes."

"I was told I could contact the FBI if I had information on your investigation."

Booth frowned even more.

"Which case?"

Yes, which case? Booth was now finding himself juggling five different deaths, including the possible one of Emily Brown. The case had been closed years ago but with new girls dying in the exact same house, Booth was pretty sure it would soon be reopened.

"All of them. They all lived in that house."

"Who are you?"

"I know I'm just a teenager but you have to believe me when I say I can help."

_You're just like the others, aren't you?_

Booth took a deep breath.

"When do you want to meet?"

* * *

He wasn't sure what had made him agree to meet with her. After all, she was only a child. How could she be of any help?

Temperance seemed to think the same way. She had agreed to go down to his office but as she sat in a chair across from his desk, Booth could easily see she thought it would be a waste of time. Only Clara seemed to be happy to be present. It probably had something to do with the fact she never worked on an investigation before.

There was a knock at his door.

"Come in."

The door slowly opened to let in a young girl, probably fifteen years old, and an older woman behind her.

"Quinn?" Booth asked.

The teenager nodded, shyly.

"Please, sit down." Booth added, motionning to an empty chair between Temperance and Clara.

Judy closed the door and Quinn slowly made her way to the seat. Settling herself as comfortable as she could in an uncomfortable situation, she waited for Booth to ask her some questions. After all, isn't what an investigation was all about?

"How old are you, Quinn?"

"Fifteen." The girl replied, quietly. "Sixteen at the end of the summer."

Booth nodded.

"On the phone, you told me you had information on all five cases I'm working on. Can you tell me how you can help?"

Quinn exchanged unsure looks with both women on either side of her. She felt small and vulnerable sitting between them, looking at her like they had better things to do and should not be making them waste time with teenage stories. Her mother wasn't picking her up for another hour. Would it take that long? Were they going to throw her out the second she opened her mouth?

Their gaze felt heavy on her and she began feeling nervous.

"You don't have to be scared." Temperance said.

She knew the woman on her right simply wanted to reassure her but Quinn simply had trouble finding reassurance in the woman's slightly cold tone.

"She's right." Booth added. "You don't have to be scared. Just tell us what you know."

Quinn nodded.

"Cameron Brown murdered his daughter."

Silence fell upon the room.

"How do you know?" Booth asked.

"I talked to him. I mean... no, I didn't actually talk to _him_ because he's dead but..."

"Cameron Brown is dead?" Temperance asked, confused.

The couple exchanged surprised looks.

"Yes." Quinn replied. "Me and my friends got together a couple of nights ago and Caroline suggested we use my friend's mother's Ouija board. Julia didn't want to at first but..."

"A Ouija board?"

Quinn turned to Temperance.

"Yes. A Ouija board."

Temperance raised her eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Go on, Dear." Clara said.

Quinn smiled kindly at her.

"Anyway, we took the board and we all sat on Ju's bed. The next thing you know, we're talking to this spirit. When we asked him his name, he told us it was Cameron Brown. Caroline asked him if he was a good spirit and he said no. Then I asked him if he had committed a crime. I don't know why I asked that question. It simply slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Next thing you know, we're asking him what kind of crime he committed. He admitted to murdering someone and when we asked who, he replied that it was his daughter."

Quinn stopped, out of breath.

"You're talking about Cameron Brown, a man who murdered his daughter over forty years ago. How's that got to do with me?"

"I did some research."

Temperance snorted. Booth glared at her.

"What kind of research?"

Quinn glanced briefly at Temperance before answering.

"I was curious. I wanted to know who Cameron Brown was. I googled his name and a webpage on his trial came up. I read everything. It said that Cameron Brown lived at 53 Maple Street, alone, with his daughter Emily. That Emily died when she was just nine years old from poisonning. It was later proved that her father had murdered her, even though he always claimed he was innocent. He got life, was sent to jail and died eight years after the death of his daughter."

"How did he die?" Booth asked, suddenly interested in what the girl was saying.

Sensing finally some kind of trust, Quinn felt her confidence rising.

"Apparently the man killed himself in his cell one night. Hung himself."

Booth nodded.

"Where do I come in in this?"

"When I saw 53 Maple Street, I remembered something I had heard in the news a few days earlier about bones being found in the basement of that house and later about a little girl dying there."

"Okay. But I still don't see where I come in. Seriously Quinn, I ask nothing better than to believe you. But if you can't give me a reason why you think your experience with a Ouija board is helpful to the investigation, I'm afraid you're wasting your time here."

Quinn turned to Temperance who nodded.

"Cameron Brown always claimed he was innocent. What if he was? What if now he is killing from beyond the dead, trying to get vengeance after being incarcerated for a crime he didn't commit?"

Temperance snorted. This time, Booth didn't glare at her.

"Quinn, you're not making any sense."

The teenage girl stared into his eyes.

"It _does_ make sense, Agent Booth. What doesn't make sense if how those girls died and nobody heard or saw what happened to them. I know Laura Joyce disappeared during an earthquake. Raine Bennett disappeared from her own backyard in broad daylight. Hope Lawson was found drowned in her tub after her mother heard her cries from the living room. Mackenzie Robertson was pushed off her roof. The only person not fitting in this is Melanie Pharatt."

"She does fit."

The three others jumped, startled. Clara, who had been quiet for a while, had succeeded in making the others believe she wasn't even in the room.

"Melanie Pharatt was not pushed from the top of the stairs by her father, she was tripped. And since her father never went down to the basement, then it's impossible that he killed her."

"See, even _she_ agrees with me." Quinn added, pointing to the psychic.

"This still needs to be determined." Booth corrected. "We are still waiting for the permission to excavate Melanie Pharatt's body to do an autopsy on her bones. Nothing has been proved yet as to how she really died."

"But you can't tell me, Agent Booth, that something about this case is right. Nothing makes sense."

"Yes, I know that, Quinn." Booth replied.

Then, standing up, he added:

"But it's our job to find out what happened."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I appreciate your help and you have given us new information on Cameron Brown and I appreciate it. But you've done all you could do to help us and now you need to go back home."

Quinn nodded, and without another word, stood up and walked out of the office.

* * *

"Quinn!"

The teenager turned around just as she was stepping out of the FBI office.

"Clara?" The girl asked, confused.

"You have the gift." Clara replied, out of breath.

Quinn frowned.

"What gift?"

"My gift. The feeling you got while playing the Ouija board wasn't a coincidence."

"It wasn't?" Quinn asked, even more confused.

Clara laid a hand on the young girl's shoulder.

"It wasn't. And if you let me, I can teach you how to use your gift."

Unsure, Quinn simply nodded. Clara let go of her shoulder and reached into her pocket, taking out a small card.

"Call me, if you ever change your mind." The psychic said as she handed the little card to the teenage girl.

"How did you…?"

"Guess?" Clara asked. "I'm a psychic."

Fighting the urge to shiver in the warm April weather, Quinn ran down the stairs, leaving the older woman behind her.

* * *

"A Ouija board." Temperance repeated, unimpressed.

"I know Bones, I was there." Booth replied as they stepped in the sliding doors.

The lab was silent. Technicians were slowly making their way in between the empty examination tables.

It had been a quiet week. No new bodies to examine. Temperance felt as though Washington had shut down. Crimes weren't being committed, fires weren't starting in houses. The country's capital was simply too quiet.

"I'll never get used to the silence of the lab." Temperance said as they made their way to her office.

"Don't change the subject."

Temperance stopped in her tracks and spun around.

"I'm sorry Seeley but I just don't see how a ghost could be murdering young girls."

"I never said I believed Quinn's theory."

"No but you want to."

Booth sighed.

"Bones, this case is just too complicated. Nothing makes sense. Have I told you that I saw Melanie Pharatt's ghost too?"

Temperance frowned.

"What? Where?"

"At Mickey's house last Sunday. She was just there, standing at the top of the stairs, staring at us."

"You're crazy."

Turning around, she resumed her way to her office.

"Why do you consider crazy everyone who don't believe in the same things you do?"

"I don't."

"Yes, you do." Booth replied, grabbing her arm to stop her.

Spinning around, Temperance glared at him.

"Let go of my arm."

"No." Booth replied, defiantly.

Temperance's eyes narrowed. Booth loosened his hold on her.

"It's not because you don't understand something that it doesn't make it real. It's not because something goes against your scientific beliefs that it's not true. There are still some things that science can't prove, even to this day. It's not because we are in 2016 that we were able to explain everything."

Letting go of her completely, Booth continued.

"I know what I saw. Riley knows what she saw too. Neither of us are crazy or imagining stuff. It wasn't a hallucination and I wasn't tired. I _saw _Melanie Pharatt just before we discovered the bunny on the floor. She was trying to tell me something just like she tried to say something to Riley."

"And what do you think Melanie Pharatt is trying to tell us?"

"The only person who knows what _truly_ happened to that little girl is her. She was there. She knows who pushed or tripped her down her basement stairs. We need to find out what happened. I have a gut feeling that if we find out what happened to her, we find out what happened to the others."

"So you believe David Pharatt when he says that he didn't kill his daughter?"

Booth nodded, slowly.

"Okay."

"What?" Booth asked, surprised.

Temperance took a deep breath.

"I'm probably going to make a mistake by doing this but Ryan told me to open my mind for this case so I will."

She paused, leaving her husband time to make a comment about her partner. When he didn't, Temperance went on.

"Try speeding up the excavation request process and I'll try to see what I can find out from the victim's bones. If I find something that corroborates Clara's story, I'll consider believing Quinn's story. But if it turns out that I was right, then I want Clara off the investigation."

Booth nodded.

"Okay."

"So we have a deal?"

"We have a deal."

Smiling weakly, Temperance turned around. Taking out her keys, she began walking to her office. Her smile vanished as she realized the door was already opened. Frowning, she turned to Booth.

"I thought I had closed it before I left."

She pushed the door slowly and her heart nearly stopped.

"I'm sorry. I should have called." The visitor said.

Booth and Temperance remained silent.

"Do you know where she is?"

"At home." Temperance replied, her voice shaking slightly.

"I need to see her but I don't know how to reach her."

Nodding numbly, Temperance stepped inside her office and walked to her desk.

"I'll call her." Temperance replied, grabbing her phone.

"Thank you."

And as Temperance dialled her best friend's number, Jack settles himself more comfortably on his former colleague's couch.

* * *

**Ooooh... Jack is back. Angst warning for the next few chapters! Make sure you stop by the store to buy a box of tissues.**


	12. Chapter 11: A Reunion

Angela slowly pushed the door to the apartment she had been calling her home for nearly five months. A home she had been forced to settle into after Jack had taken off to South America, leaving her alone with life inside of her, leaving her to face the hard realities of pregnancy on her own. As she closed the door, Angela could hardly believe only five little months had gone by. It seemed like an eternity since she had heard her boyfriend's voice, felt the rugged touch of his hands on her body and felt the warmth of his breath on her neck when he woke up in the morning, curled up against her. She sighed.

Not even bothering to take off her shoes, Angela collapsed on her couch. She felt tired. Every inch of her body cried desperately for rest but the thought of her son in the hospital was enough to keep her awake. Just the thought of sleeping while Kyle was struggling to stay alive across the city was unimaginable. She knew she'd have to go to sleep one day. That collapsing from the lack of sleep would certainly not help her son but whenever she closed her eyes, she saw him. Kyle, in his weird white bed, drowning in a pool of tubes, with a diaper almost twice as big as his body. She saw his bones through the thin layer of skin, his ribcage, the things her best friend worked with every day of her life, the things she _herself_ had grown accustomed to seeing with the years. But seeing them in Kyle was bringing back the old meaning these same bones have had in the past for her: they belonged to somebody. Somebody who had lived, who had suffered, who probably had laughed as well and cried. All of that made her wonder if her son would even get a chance to do all of that.

A week had gone by. Only a week. A week spent going to the hospital five times a day to see her son, to try to provide to this little life that she had given a little bit of warmth, love and comfort in a room where everything felt cold and impersonal. A week of nights coming back alone, leaving a piece of herself behind, knowing that she would have to wait another twelve hours before seeing her baby boy again.

Angela closed her eyes. A pounding headache was forming at the base of her neck and was slowly beginning to spread inside her skull. She could hear the throbbing pain in her ears, like a bomb willing to explode at any second.

From her purse beside the door, she could hear her cellphone ringing. She groaned at the prospect of having to get up before deciding that the person would leave a message. A few rings later, the room was once again quiet.

Angela momentarily thought of her son before gently falling into a dreamless sleep.

She quickly thought of an earthquake as Angela was jolted back to reality. Squinting in the darkness, she tried making out the time on her DVD player. _10:05._ She yawned widely and stretched. What had awaken her?

She listened intently only to be greeted by silence.

_Probably just my imagination._

She was about to go back to sleep when the sound of knocking reached her ears. Her heart began beating wildly in her chest. Who could be visiting her at this time of night?

From the couch, she stared at the door as if doing so would lead to seeing through it. Three more knocks, louder than this time.

Frowning, Angela stood up and slowly walked to the door. A hand on the knob, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of anxiety. A gut feeling she couldn't ignore, telling her the second she opened the door her life would change forever. She peeked through the peephole and was greeted by a distorted familiar face. Her heart stopped racing inside her chest and it's with a rather shaky hand that Angela turned the knob and opened the door.

Everything had happened so fast. She had opened the door and immediately her earlier gut feeling had been validated. Time seemed to have stood still as he had smiled sadly at her and had asked if he could come in. A blur greeted Angela as she tried to remember what had happened next. She vaguely remembered a conversation. A rather short one since Jack had then requested a shower. She barely remembered showing him where the things were and coming back to the kitchen to sit down. Her head was spinning, her heart seemed on the verge of collapsing of exhaustion for racing too quickly, her hands shook greatly as she brought her cup of tea to her lips. The hot water burned her tongue. Angela hissed but swallowing the broiling water nonetheless. She felt it sliding down her throat, burning every inch of tissue inside. The pain almost felt good.

The water had long stopped running and Angela wondered what her ex-boyfriend was currently up to. She wondered what was going to happen next. Despite the blur, she knew they hadn't spoken about Kyle. Did he even know about the son she had given birth to? Had he read her e-mail? Was that why he was here?

She heard footsteps down the hall and her heart momentarily stopped his pounding. Her breath caught in her throat and she was unable to reply when he asked her if she had something to eat.

"It was a long trip." He added, without looking at her.

"I have soup if you want." Angela replied, her voice shaking along with her hands.

"That would be great." Jack replied as he immediately went to the cupboard beside the fridge.

"Sorry if I don't have anything else. I've been too busy to do groceries."

Jack turned around.

"I said soup would be great." He said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Angela smiled shyly back at him.

"How long are you in town?" Angela asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Couple days." Jack muttered, not turning around.

"How long is a couple days?"

Angela watched as the hand stirring the soup stilled. She could see his shoulders tense and she could swear he was chewing on his bottom lip, debating whether a lie would be better than the harsh truth.

"Five days. I leave Wednesday."

Angela nodded as she held back some tears. She should have known. She should have known he hadn't come back for good. He was still mad or whatever the heck the emotion that had made him leave in the first place.

They sat in silence as Jack slowly ate his dinner. The ticking of the kitchen clock almost seemed loud. Unable to stand the silence anymore, Angela got to her feet.

"There are blankets in the closet beside the bathroom and extra pillows as well. Make yourself comfortable on the couch. I'm going to bed." Angela announced before leaving the kitchen.

Jack simply swallowed another spoonful of soup.

She hated feeling like that. She hated when sleep seemed just out of reach. She hated turning around and to see that only a few minutes had gone by when she was sure an hour had passed. She hated knowing her ex-boyfriend was in the other room, sleeping on a very uncomfortable couch, when he should have been here with her.

The faint sound of traffic reached her ears from the opened window. The night was warm yet Angela felt cold. With her blankets wrapped tightly around her, she thought. She thought of all the things she should have said to him, all the pain she should have yelled. She should have told him how much she hated him for abandoning them like he had. How much she hated him for making her believe there was something wrong with her, to make her think it all had been her fault, to blame her previous miscarriage on herself.

He hadn't even mentioned their son she knew he knew she had given birth to. Why else would he have dropped by her apartment out of the blue? Surely not for a friendly visit since they had only spoken a total of ten minutes, if not less.

Turning on her back, Angela watched the shadows on her ceiling of branches floating gently in the breeze. Somewhere on her left, the door creaked opened. Closing her eyes, Angela pretended to sleep.

She listened as the footsteps got nearer. Even with her eyes closed, she knew he was standing right beside her bed. Her heart sped up at the thought of their proximity. Memories of past nights when she would wake up, catching him staring tenderly at her while she slept. She used to love the smile that followed, slowly stretching from ear-to-ear. They would stay like that for a few seconds, simply staring into each other's eyes, reading into them what both wanted to say but kept bottled up inside.

Her heart broke at the thought that there might not be any more of those moments. Slowly, Angela opened her eyes and her heart nearly stopped at the sight of him.

Maybe it had been the shock, maybe it had been the anger but he looked different. Moonlight shining down on him, he looked skinnier. His face was pale and Angela noticed the dark circles under his eyes that had managed to slip by her when she had opened the door earlier that evening. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

"I want to see him."

As if stung by his words, Angela sat up in her bed.

"Please." Jack said, his voice cracking. "Let me see him."

Angela nodded slowly.

"Okay."

Reaching out to him, Angela immediately pulled him an embrace where Jack would finally fall asleep, hours later, after letting out days of anxiety and fear.

"Breakfast is ready!" Temperance yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Walking back to the kitchen, she began setting the table. Booth lowered his newspaper.

"I wonder how Angela and Jack are doing." She said as she placed a plate in front of her husband.

Grabbing her by the arm, Booth pulled her down and claimed her lips with his.

The door closed behind them and Jack slowly made his way to his son's incubator. More tears began to fall as he laid eyes on what would turn out to be the best thing he had ever done in his entire life.

"He's so small." Jack whispered.

Angela took a few steps towards him.

"You can touch him if you want."

Slowly, Jack stuck his hand inside the latex glove. Kyle twitched at the touch of his father's finger but didn't wake up. Jack pulled out his hand.

"Is he going to be okay?"

Angela felt her heart break. Before she even had the chance to reply, Jack's knees gave out under her and brought him crashing to the floor in a rack of sobs. In an instant, Angela was at his side and not even abandonment mattered as she joined him in his release of pain.


	13. Chapter 12: The Talk

**A/N: Not quite what I had expected to write when I wrote the plan for my story but still okay. Hope you like it!**

* * *

He had asked to come alone this time. She hadn't wanted but after an hour of arguing, she had finally agreed to let him be alone with his son for a couple of minutes. She had drove him to the hospital, her silence telling him how she felt about the whole deal. He had kissed her just before getting out of the car and had told her they would be fine. She had answered that she would be waiting for him in the car.

He felt as though his heart was going to beat out of his chest as he walked down the corridor to his son's room. Each footstep seemed to reverbrate loudly off the walls, making his eardrums pound in his ears.

He was oblivious to the nurses' stares, oblivious to his whole surroundings. Mentally, he went over what he would say to his son. There were so many things he needed to get off his chest, so many things he wanted his son to hear and it didn't matter to him that Kyle wouldn't be able to hear him or even understand him. It was just something he had to do.

He opened the door to his son's room for the second time this weekend. The heart monitor beeped steadily and somehow Jack immediately felt appeased by the sound. Closing the door, he walked up to his son. He found him in the same position as the previous day. Pulling a chair up to the incubator, Jack sat down.

"Hey Buddy." He said, as he snaked his hands into both latex gloves and ran a finger up and down his son's left arm. "How are you doing?"

_Like he can answer me._ Jack thought.

Glancing briefly at the door to make sure no one was staring at him, he looked back at his son.

"You really gave us quite a scare, do you know that?"

Jack paused, suddenly at loss of words. What had made sense in his head all night and this morning suddenly didn't anymore. The feeling of being near his son seemed to make him forget everything he had rehearsed. So he gazed at his son.

"You know, your mommy and I used to be together. And we had another baby that we didn't get a chance to get to know because he was born prematurely too. Your mom was only two months pregnant when she lost it."

Jack sniffed and wiped a tear that managed to escape his eyes.

"It was really tough on both of us. It really changed us forever. But then your mommy got pregnant with you and I got scared. I was scared I was going to lose you too and I couldn't bare that thought. So, I left your mother."

He paused for a split second.

"It was the biggest mistake of my life. They say that babies can feel everything their mother is feeling while in their stomach. I just hope we didn't traumatize you for life. Knowing your mother, she must have been really sad. She's a real softie. You're lucky to have such a caring woman for a mother, Kyle. Remember that when you hit thirteen."

The monitor beeped a bit quicker.

"In a couple of days, I'll have to leave again. Not for long, but I still have work to do down in Peru. I'll come back, I promise you, but only if you promise me one thing. Promise me that whatever happens you'll keep fighting. Promise me that your mom and I will have the chance to bring you home, to raise you and to love you just like you deserve."

A few more tears slid down Jack's face. He didn't wipe them.

"Eh?" Jack added, softly, running his finger on his son's arm. "Do we have a deal?"

Kyle twitched at the thought of the cold latex and slowly turned his head towards his father. Jack smiled through his tears as Kyle opened his eyes slowly and stared unfocusely at his father.

"Looks like we have ourselves a deal." Jack said as his son closed his eyes once more.

Staring at few more minutes at his baby boy, Jack then got up and walked out of the room.

* * *

"Man, this place is still opened?"

Booth looked up and didn't bother masking his surprise at seeing his former colleague standing right beside his table.

"New management." Booth replied. "But same old good food. Wanna sit down?"

Jack nodded.

"You look like crap, man."

"I just came back from the hospital."

Booth nodded.

"How is he?"

"Okay. The nurse said his situation was weak but stable. How are your kids?"

"Pretty good. Riley is bummed out because her friend died recently but she's holding on pretty well for a nine-year-old. I think she just doesn't understand what dying means yet."

"Lukas probably understands."

"He does. When my father died, he understood it meant his grandfather wouldn't come back. Rye didn't. She would stay up at night, hoping to see her grandfather come around the corner."

Jack smiled, sympathetically.

"Why are you here? You certainly didn't drop by to talk about my kids."

"I needed to ask you a question."

"Shoot." Booth replied as he took a bite of his steak.

"How was Angela while I was gone?"

Booth looked up at his friend, wiped his mouth with his napkin, leaned back in the bench and sighed.

"Miserable."

"You don't have to be so blunt about it." Jack replied, immediately feeling guilty for leaving his ex-girlfriend.

"You asked a question, I gave you an answer."

Jack sighed.

"I guess you're right."

"Why did you leave? She spent months wondering why."

"I just... It's... I couldn't face it."

Booth frowned.

"Face what?"

"Her pregnancy. I couldn't face her pregnancy. I knew she wouldn't be able to carry the baby to full term and I wasn't ready to see another one of my children go before I even had a chance to know it."

"What do you mean you _knew_?"

"I had a feeling."

"You had a _feeling?_"

"Yes." Jack replied, frustratedly. "I had a feeling. Something just didn't feel right. And I was right. According to her doctor, she can't carry babies to full term. It's a miracle she was able to keep Kyle for six and a half months."

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh_. See why I left now?"

"No." Booth replied, shaking his head. "Because you didn't know for sure back then that she couldn't carry babies. You left because you were scared of the unknown, scared of getting hurt again. You did just like what my wife would have done years ago, what you used to judge her for. You took off and left loved ones behind you. That's what I see."

Jack leaned back in his seat.

"Are you back for good?"

"No. I'm leaving Wednesday. But I'll come back. Now that I've seen my son, I can't stay away from him."

Booth nodded.

"I completely understand you on that one."

"It's amazing how something so small can have such a huge impact on your life. When he opened his eyes earlier today and looked at me, I felt so much love for this little guy that I thought my heart was going to explode."

"I know the feeling."

"He's so tiny. He could probably fit inside my hand."

"I remember when I saw Riley for the first time. She was small and fragile. She weighed only two pounds. I was almost afraid to hold her. I was scared I was going to break her."

Jack chuckled.

"You laugh now but wait until you hold your son for the first time. You won't want to do it. You'll be afraid too. You'll look at Angela, see how perfect she is with him and immediately feel inferior."

"Is that how you felt?"

"Not with the twins but with Parker. The first time I held him in the hospital, I felt like all eyes were on me. I was so nervous. I only held him for ten seconds before I gave him back to Rebecca. I couldn't do it."

Jack smiled.

"Thanks, man. I needed a talk like this."

Booth nodded.

The door to the diner opened, making Jack look up.

"Booth, I think we have some visitors."

"Daddy!"

Booth got up just in time to catch his daughter and lifted her up in the air.

"Booth, she just ate." Temperance immediately scolded.

"Who cares? If she throws up, we'll clean it up."

Brina giggled and Booth set her back down on the ground. The little girl looked up at Jack. Jack smiled at her. Brina looked up at her father.

"Who that?" The two-year-old asked, pointing at the stranger.

"That's Jack. He's Aunt Angela's boyfriend."

Jack looked up at Angela who was standing beside her best friend and smiled. Angela smiled back.


	14. Chapter 13: The Report

**A/N: Inspired by today's weather where I live. And I'm getting the feeling a lot of you will be happy with the ending.**

* * *

There are days when you just _don't _feel like waking up. Today was one of those days.

Temperance heard the sound of the rain hitting her bedroom windows way before she awoke from a deep slumber. It was as if her mind had subconsciously recorded the sound, analyzed it and came to the conclusion that today wouldn't be a very good day.

Her bedroom was plunged in semi-darkness despite the time of the day and the wind blew loudly, making a branch of the only tree in the front yard brush against the glass. She groaned softly before turning around and snuggling against her husband. She knew she had to get up. Her children certainly wouldn't make themselves breakfast, get dressed and send themselves to school. Lukas would, but she doubted his twin sister would follow along.

Giving her husband a quick kiss on the chest, Temperance sat up and got out of bed. The carpet squished under her feet as she made her way out of her room and into the silent hallway. All doors were closed except hers. Quietly, she made her way around the second floor, waking up her children as she went.

In the kitchen, she dared making all the noise she wanted as she began making breakfast for her children and coffee for herself and Booth. As she rummaged through the cupboards for the coffee, Temperance wondered how long ago she had agreed to becoming a housewife, if she had even agreed. Making breakfast, getting the kids ready for school, doing the laundry, cleaning the house, helping out with homework, bringing her children to the various clubs and teams they were part of. The change had been so subtle she had hardly seen it occur. Ten years ago, she wouldn't have thought she would have been one of _those_. Yet today, she had to admit, she had become one of them.

Footsteps in the stairs told her Lukas would be joining her in the kitchen. She chuckled inwardly. Is that what she had called "Mommy vision" when she was herself a child and her mother would catch her doing something even with her back turned, knowing which one of your children was coming down the stairs simply by listening to the sound of their footsteps?

"Hey Lukas." Temperance said, looking up from the coffeemaker.

"Hey Mom." The nine-year-old boy replied before sitting at the table. "Can we watch cartoons this morning while we eat breakfast?"

"No, Luke, you know the rules. No cartoons during breakfast."

Grabbing a bowl in a cupboard and the cereal box in another, she placed them in front of her son.

"Serve yourself." She added before going back to the kitchen counter.

She watched as her son sat up on his knees, grabbed the box and poured cereal in his bowl. She couldn't believe how much he looked like Booth. Same brown hair, same chocolate brown eyes, same squared face, same stubbornness but also same soft side. Temperance smiled tenderly at her son.

"What?" Lukas asked, after catching his mother staring at him.

"Nothing."

Riley soon followed and before she knew it, Booth and Brina joined them in the kitchen and her whole family was reunited for breakfast.

In an hour, everybody was running out the door. The rain was still pouring down on the town of Winchester and in their blue plastic raincoats and rubber boats, Temperance almost thought her children were dressed for Halloween.

"Maybe we should just give them an umbrella." Temperance said as she climbed in Booth's car.

"What's wrong with their raincoats?"

"It makes them look like walking blue ghosts."

Booth chuckled.

"I don't see what's funny about this." Temperance said as Booth pulled out of their driveway.

"Have you heard them complain about being called ghosts at school?"

"No. But I don't see how that-"

"Then they're fine."

Reaching over to her, he ruffled her hair.

"You mother hen." He teased.

Temperance glared at him and looked out the window.

The rain trailed down her windows, the wipers were going at it full speed and they had been on the highway for a minute when Temperance turned back to her husband.

"What did you talk about?"

Booth glanced briefly at her and frowned.

"Who talked about what?"

"You and Hodgins. What did you talk about?"

"When?"

Temperance sighed irritatedly.

"You know very well when. At the Diner yesterday."

Booth chuckled.

"Nothing important."

Temperance raised her eyebrows.

"We talked about his son if you _must_ know."

Temperance nodded.

"That's what I thought."

"Then why did you ask if you already knew what we had talked about?"

Booth hit the breaks and the car slowly came to a stop.

"Damn traffic." Booth mumbled.

"Have you ever thought of taking off?"

Booth's head snapped in her direction. Her expression was serious and immediately told him she wasn't joking. He sighed.

"Once."

Her eyes went round and Booth immediately felt guilty. He took her hand in his.

"Just before Riley and I got sick."

"While you were gambling?" Temperance asked, her voice caught in her throat.

Booth nodded.

"Yeah. I thought you deserved better than me. I had planned to borrow the money from my dad, pay back my debts and leave so you could go on living the life you deserved, without me."

Temperance pulled her hand away.

"How could you even think such a thing?"

There was a hint of disgust in her tone and Booth found himself turning defensive.

"I was depressed, Bones. I was ashamed of myself. You were always so perfect in my eyes, I didn't feel adequate. I felt inferior and I didn't like it. It's not my fault I need to feel in control."

"That's your therapist talking."

"Maybe but he was right when he said so. I _needed_ to be in control and I wasn't. So I got angry, angry at myself, and I thought leaving would change all of that."

"Then what made you stay?"

"Riley, Lukas, you. I came home that night and the three of you were sitting at the kitchen table, doing homework. Riley was beaming because she had remembered her addition table and you told her you were really proud of her. I quickly realized that I would never be able to leave my family and that it had been a stupid idea to even think about leaving."

Temperance nodded, still unsure. Booth turned back to the road. A trail of red lights illuminated the rainy morning.

"Next time you have a question like that, just make sure we are not sitting in traffic, Bones."

"Why not?"

"Because if you don't like my answer, I have nowhere to hide if you want to kick my ass."

A smile tugged at his lips. Booth turned to his wife.

"Jack left because he was scared of the unknown, not because he didn't love Angela. He feels guilty, really guilty. It's all that should matter."

Temperance nodded and turned back to the window.

Booth turned on the radio to learn, seconds later, about the accident only a few miles ahead of them.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Booth said as he hit the steering wheel with his fist.

Temperance rolled her eyes.

In the distance, a lightning zigzagged across the sky.

* * *

"You're late." Monica said as Temperance barged in through the sliding doors. 

"Traffic was horrible." Temperance replied as she walked quickly to her office.

Monica skipped behind her teacher, trying to keep up with her.

"The pathology report on Mackenzie Robertson is in. I didn't check it out but the pathologist assured me you wouldn't learn more than you already knew about the death. The file is on your desk. Also, Dr. Lewis called from Florida. They need your help to identify remains found at the bottom of a well."

"Can't Zach do it?" Temperance asked as she opened the door to her office.

"He can't. He's working on another case up in New York."

Temperance sighed.

"We _really_ need more forensic anthropologists in this country." Temperance said as she grabbed Mickey's file.

Opening it, she quickly scanned the content before grabbing her phone and dialing her partner's number. His voice reached her ears seconds later.

"Booth."

"Hey it's me. I got Mickey's lab results."

"And?"

Temperance sat down.

"Do you want me to leave?" Monica asked.

Temperance shook her head.

"Death was caused by a fractured spine and skull due to a fall, in this case from a roof. Two small bruises were found on her arm and leg, probably due to struggle. Tox screen came back positive. Traces of sedatives were found in the victim's blood. And..."

Temperance stopped in mid-sentence.

"And what?"

"And two hair fibers were found on the victim's clothes: one human, one feline. The human one did not belong to Mackenzie."

Silence on the other side of the line.

"I guess that rules out a "ghostly" killing, doesn't it?"

"Man."

"You said it."

"That means we have a serial killer on our hands."

"Not necessarily. I mean, if Mackenzie's death is related to the four others, it means the killer would have been killing for thirty-two years, making the man in his sixties."

"Again Bones, not necessarily. If he started killing at the age of twenty, he could be 52 today. Did a test determine who the hair fiber came from or at least what kind of cat the other one is from?"

Temperance scanned the file.

"American Bobtail."

"Well at least we got that covered."

Another silence, quickly broken by Booth.

"Here's what we're going to do. I'll try to speed up the process for Melanie Pharatt's excavation. If we can prove that Melanie wasn't killed by her father then we'll know we have a serial killer on our hands. Tomorrow, I'll pick Raquel and Quinn up at their school and I'll get Raquel to describe the man she saw in her room. Maybe we'll be able to find a match or something."

"Okay."

"There's not much more else we can do today. Cullen called a meeting before lunch and I don't know how long it's going to take."

"I'll try to see if I can't find something else on the other victims' bodies. Maybe I'll get lucky and find something I hadn't seen the last couple of times."

"Sure. Call me if you find anything."

On that, the two of them hung up. Temperance glanced down at the file and a smile tugged at her lips.

"What's so funny?" Monica asked.

Temperance looked up.

"Nothing."

Monica nodded. Temperance's smile didn't wash away. With a smirk still printed on her face, she got up and motionned to Monica to follow her. Monica obeyed but not without casting a confused glance at her teacher.


	15. Chapter 14: Discovery

Silence reigned in the car as it sped down the streets of Washington, DC. The two teenagers sitting in the backseat were quiet, both lost in their thoughts, anxiously waiting for the ride to the FBI Bureau to be over. It felt weird, for both of them, to be sitting there. The two girls exchanged shy glances every once in a while and a weak smile would form on their lips. Booth, from the rear-view mirror, witnessed that exchange.

"We're almost there." He said, stopping at a red light. "Only a few more minutes."

"Why are we going to the Bureau?" Raquel asked, unsure of why Booth had gotten her out of gym class in the middle of the day.

"You will be meeting with Veronica from the Jeffersonian and you will describe to her, as best as you can, the man you saw in your bedroom when you were younger."

Raquel swallowed and nodded.

"Why am I here?"

Booth's gaze shifted to Quinn.

"You will need to give a bit more information to Clara."

The light turned green.

"I'm not sure exactly what she plans on doing with you. She hasn't told me."

"Who's Clara?" Raquel asked, confused.

Quinn turned to the teenager beside her.

"A psychic." She replied, tapping her temple with her index.

Both girls giggled. A smile tugged at Booth's lips.

* * *

The grey brick wall reminded Raquel of the cold storage room at 53 Maple Street. How she hated going down there when her mother would ask her to fetch some object or other. She hated the entire basement. There was just something creepy about the dark corner where no light shone no matter what time of the day it was or how she always hurt funny noises coming from the depth of the immense underground area. The tick-tocks of the plumbing, the footsteps above her head; everything scared her. Every tiny noise the house made made the blood in her veins freeze.

Booth pushed the door to the interrogation room closed and Raquel was forced to take a deep breath. At a table, a young woman with long brown hair and green eyes stared at her. Freckles coloured her cheekbones and Raquel almost found her adorable.

"Hi. You must be Raquel. I'm Veronica."

"Hi." Raquel replied, shyly.

"Please sit down." Veronica said, pointing to a chair across from her.

Raquel looked up at Booth who nodded. Slowly making her way to the table, she sat down at the chair appointed by the artist. Linking her fingers together, Raquel settled them on her thighs. She watched as Veronica grabbed a pencil and a sketchbook.

"People these days do all of this on computer but I still prefer the old-fashioned way." Veronica explained.

Raquel nodded.

"Whenever you're ready, Sweetie."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"Booth told me your story. Don't worry, I'm not here to judge you. All I need is for you to describe to me the man you saw in your room at night as best as you can."

"Okay."

"He had a round face and his cheeks were kind of chunky."

Booth kept his eyes on Veronica's wrist as she began sketching the man Raquel was describing. Listening intently, he tried to picture the man clearly in his mind. The round face, the chunky cheeks, the almond eyes and the long hair. He tried to imagine who this man was. Could he have been a former occupant of that house? Was he even real? Was he dead? Were the Lawson children stalked at night, watched intently as they got ready for bed? Was this guy a pervert? Had he been arrested? There hadn't been any sighting of the man since the Lawsons. Was he still in the area? Had he left Winchester?

Raquel now seemed almost calm. Her previous tense body had loosened and her voice had steadied. Veronica sketched away the minutes, asking specific questions when Raquel's description got vague.

He wondered briefly what Clara was doing in his office with poor little Quinn. He had immediately sensed the discomfort on Quinn's part the second the psychic had walked in the room. The teenage girl had shot him a desperate look when he had told Clara Raquel and him had to go. He had taken Quinn apart and had reassured her about Clara.

"You won't be forced to do or say anything, Quinn, okay? Just be honest with her."

He had left all alone with the old woman, guilt gnawing at the back of his conscience.

Seconds turned into minutes. What Booth had expected to take a while was quickly coming to an end.

"Is that all you remember?"

Raquel nodded.

"Okay. Is this him?"

Slowly, Veronica turned the sketchbook. Booth stepped closer to the table.

Raquel gasped loudly, her eyes turning round in surprise. In a flash, she was transported back to eight years earlier, in her old bedroom. She saw it slowly push the door to her bedroom open. Everything was dark. She could barely make out the contour of his body as he stepped inside the room. He came to a stop in front of her bed. That's when she saw his face, the same one that was now staring back at her, eight years later. It had been the only time she hadn't ducked under her blankets. She had peeked and the memory of his face was now engraved in her mind for ever.

"Yes. It's him."

"Okay."

Then, turning to Booth, she added:

"I'll scan it in my computer and run it through a database. Maybe we'll find a match."

"Monique can help you with that on the third floor." Booth said, never taking his eyes off the picture.

Where had he seen this man before?

"We'll just wait for Quinn to be done with Clara and then I'll drive you back to school."

Raquel nodded.

* * *

"I just thought it would be a good idea to meet and talk about your Ouija board experience."

Quinn shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it." The teenage girl said, crossing her arms.

Clara nodded.

"It's okay to feel scared, you know."

"I'm not scared."

Clara got up and sat back down on the edge of Booth's desk.

"I know how you must feel. I was about your age when I had my first Ouija board experience. It was thirty-five years ago. I was fifteen and I was convinced the house I was living in back in Idaho was haunted. It was a real old house and there was a rumor at school that my house was haunted. So I gathered up my girlfriends and with her parents' board, we sat down in my basement on Halloween and we played."

Clara paused briefly and examined Quinn's expression. Her face showed no emotion. Clara went on.

"At first I thought it was all crap, forgive my language. But when the plate started moving beneath my fingers, I knew that it was true. We were hiding under a huge blanket to prevent us from seeing what was going on around us. When we asked our first question and that the plate started moving, everything suddenly got really warm under that blanket. I felt a strange feeling running through me, like a powerful anxiety and it took my breath away. I remember looking up at my best friend and I could see through her eyes that she was feeling the same way. Suddenly, the girl on my left gasped, quickly followed by my best friend. The two of them shrieked and pulled the blanket off of them. The two of them swore they felt their arm hit something hard when they were trying to get out. I remained skeptic at first."

"What made you change your mind?"

"We decided to go up to my room where there would be more light... and people. My parents' room was right beside mine. At least, there would be someone close by. We walked up the stairs. I was the last one in the group as we marched up the stairs and I kept turning around. I really felt like someone else was walking up behind me but every time I turned around I'd be greeted by darkness.

In my room, the four of us sat down on my bed and placed the Ouija board in front of us. We picked up where we left off. I remember closing my eyes and seeing this little girl every time my fingers touched the wooden plate. She was beautiful. She had long, wavy dark brown hair and really nice blue eyes. She was wearing a white, lacy dress. I could only see her. I couldn't see her surroundings. After a period of questioning, we learned that her name was Elizabeth and that she had died in a fire in a house that had once stood across from my own."

Quinn now looked interested.

"The next day, I went down to the library and checked out newspapers from the beginning of the century to that day. I found the article, which dated from 1942. The fire had taken the lives of not only Elizabeth but her entire family which contained, including her parents and herself, seven people. The fire even burned part of their neighbor's house. It was really interesting."

"Is that why you decided to become a psychic?"

"You don't become a psychic, Quinn. You are born one. But yes, that's how I discovered my powers. I met up with this woman named Janet. She was a medium herself and she told me to play the Ouija board once again but on my own this time. She taught me how to come in contact with the dead, to gather information about what have happened to them. I solved my first unsolved mystery at the age of 17."

Clara paused briefly.

"I think you may have that gift, Quinn. Tell me, have you had any bizarre experiences since last week?"

Quinn hesitated between lying and telling the truth. Was she ready to tell Clara what had happened over the last few nights? Would the woman laugh in her face or would she believe her?

The teenage girl looked up at the older woman sitting on the desk.

"I've had these dreams."

"Oh?"

"About Emily Brown."

* * *

The phone call had came in at about nine o'clock that same morning. Melanie Pharratt's body had been excavated from the cemetery in Winchester and the remains were now being sent to the Jeffersonian.

A feeling of excitement that Temperance hadn't felt in years had immediately rushed through her. The autopsy results on Mickey's body had been the first step to proving wrong to the woman who claimed to be a psychic that everything in this case could scientifically and logically be explained. Maybe she would be able to prove Clara's theory on Melanie Pharatt's death wrong as well. The thought that she was supposed to be doing this to prove Pharatt's innocence suddenly came rushing back to her. Clara was siding with them on his innocence. Temperance felt torn.

_I need to be professional._ Temperance had told herself while unzipping the blue plastic bag containing Melanie Pharatt's remains.

She glanced at her watch. 1:05. Maybe if she was lucky, she would get to leave the lab at a reasonable hour again tonight. Taking out a femur, she put it aside and began assembling the skeleton.

* * *

She circled the table at she examined the remains and spoke in her recording machine, listing everything she was seeing. It was obvious by the looks of it that trauma to the head had been the cause of death. Her wrists were broken in three places and her left ankle had suffered a similar fate. Every injury supported the theory that David Pharatt had pushed his daughter.

Temperance sighed. Booth would be disappointed by the findings. But there was nothing else she could. She couldn't falsify her results to make her husband happy. Clara would probably also say that she is wrong, that she has overlooked some minor detail, that David Pharatt was innocent. But without hard evidence, an appeal wouldn't be granted.

Grabbing the file, Temperance went over the first autopsy results. All of them seemed congruent with what she had gathered herself.

On the second page, photographs had been attached to the paper. Taking it out of the folder, Temperance lined them side-by-side on the examination table. For the first time in her line of work, Temperance was able to see the victim with flesh. The sight of Melanie's rigid body, white, with slightly blue lips, made her toes curl and the blood in her veins freeze. Her heart began pounding loudly.

She stared at the pictures, unable to tear her gaze away. The doors behind her slid open but she ignored them. Their sound was drowned by the beating of her heart.

That's when she saw it, the minor detail that would certainly change a person's life for ever. The way Melanie laid on the ground was not consistent of someone who was pushed down the stairs. Temperance frowned and looked up from the pictures to the remains.

Grabbing her cellphone, she dialed her husband's number only to fall on his voice mail. She decided to leave a message.

"Hey Booth, it's me. I've got some news on the Pharatt case. If we can figure out from which step in the stairs Melanie was supposedly tripped and recreate what happened, we may have a case. Call me back when you get that message. I'll probably stay at the lab for a little while."

Shutting her phone, Temperance went back to the remains. Leaning over the body, Temperance examined each inch of the little girl's body once again in search of another detail she could have missed.

Search for something inconsistent with a fall. Temperance told herself.

Something, at the back of her mind, was telling her suddenly that a fall wasn't the cause of death. After all, if she had been tripped, she would have been tripped in the middle of the stairs, not the top, and so not high enough for the fall to kill her. There was something else, something that made more sense than trauma to the head.

She found it on the neck. The same injury she had found on Hope Lawson as well. Her heart began to race once more and the more she examined the neck and throat, the more she believed to have found it.

Cause of death: strangulation.

Looking up, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. Taking at a picture in her head, she examined Melanie's neck area a bit more closely. Squinting, she tried to make out something- any sign that would prove her right- but found nothing. What or whoever had strangled Melanie hadn't left any trace.

A light flickered above her head and Temperance looked up. A movement caught her attention in the corner of her eye. There, on the platform, sat a little girl, legs dangling off in the air, staring directly at her.

Temperance felt the air being knocked out of her. She closed her eyes and shook her head before reopening them. The little girl had disappeared. The sliding doors opened and closed behind her.

With her heart racing like mad inside her chest, Temperance gathered Melanie Pharatt's remains, bagged them and brought them down to the morgue.


	16. Chapter 15: Promises

Booth didn't think he would ever see the man sitting in front of him for a second time. Pharatt hadn't changed since the two weeks he had seen him. He didn't had the same long salt-and-pepper beard, his blue eyes were still bright under his thick gray brows and his hair surely hadn't seen a haircut in years. The dementia he had detected in the man's eyes were still there and, as a father, Booth found himself pitying the older man.

Booth turned to his wife who in turn nodded. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. Pharatt, we know you didn't kill your daughter."

Pharatt's, who's head had been down, snapped up. The vivid blue eyes widened and the man's jaw dropped slightly as he stared in shock at the couple in front of him.

"How... how do you...?"

Temperance and Booth exchanged looks.

"We've had special help on the 53 Maple Street case. A psychic named Clara is helping us piece all of the information together. She told us she knew Melanie wasn't pushed down the stairs."

Pharatt remained silent, his eyes never leaving Booth.

"I was later able to determine how the victim died." Temperance said, slowly.

"How...?"

"Just like Clara had foreseen, your daughter was tripped down the stairs and not pushed. We've seen the report stating you had a fear of being underground, therefore you couldn't have been the one to trip her." Booth replied.

Pharatt nodded.

"I asked her to go in the basement to get something to eat for dinner. The next thing I know, she was laying face-down on the cement floor. There was blood around her and she wasn't moving."

Seeing another exchange of looks between the couple, Pharatt frowned.

"What?"

Booth cleared his throat and turned to his wife. Temperance licked her suddenly dried lips.

"Your daughter didn't die from the fall."

Pharatt's eyes widened.

"Then how did she die?"

Temperance looked over at Jason Triggs, who had been quiet since Pharatt had stepped inside the interview room.

"Strangulation."

"What? How could she be strangled? No one was in the house."

"At this point, Mr. Pharatt, we are not able to answer that question. However, based on new evidence, we are now looking for an "alive" serial killer that has taken as a target your previous home."

"The new girl died as well, hasn't she?"

"We can't discuss the ongoing investigation." Booth replied.

"I told you to take her out of that house and you didn't." Pharatt said, his tone rising.

"Mr. Pharatt, please remain calm. There is no reason for you to get angry."

Pharatt calmed down.

"You don't know how it's like, Agent Booth. You don't know how it's like to be in prison for a crime you didn't commit. Prisoners have no morals but the second you hurt a child they are on you like flies on a pile of..."

"I know." Booth said, interrupting the prisoner. "But you won't have to suffer much longer. We have this artist at the Jeffersonian who is able to run a machine called the Angelator. The computer has the ability to run some scenarios. Dr. Booth and I will be meeting with the artist tomorrow and see if we can figure out which step your daughter was tripped from. If we can prove that Melanie was tripped and that you are afraid of being underground, we might be able to get an appeal."

Tears threatened to spill from Pharatt's eyes.

"Th... thank you, Agent Booth."

Booth smiled sympathetically at him.

"We're just doing our job."

* * *

Angela groaned softly as she was slowly pulled from her first peaceful sleep since her son's birth. Stretching in her bed, her left arm felt an empty space beside her. Her eyes shot wide open as her heart began racing faster inside her chest.

Sitting up in her bed, she glanced around her room. Her eyes caught sight of her boyfriend's suitcase near her dresser. Angela let out a sigh of relief, a few tears of happiness sliding down her cheeks. At least she hadn't miss his departure.

The sound of a door opening and closing reached her ears. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slid her feet in her slippers and stood up. Still drowsy, she made her way down the hallway and to the kitchen just as Jack set down a few grocery bags on the kitchen table.

Angela raised her eyebrow quizzically and watched Jack's expression turn sheepish.

"I just thought I'd buy you some food to apologize for eating everything you had for the past week."

A smile tugged at Angela's lips.

"Thanks, Jack. It's really sweet."

"I dropped by the hospital this morning too." Hodgins went on as he began putting away the groceries. "Kyle is doing great. He's done a lot of progress over the last week."

Angela nodded, barely listening to what her boyfriend was saying. She watched him move about the kitchen, already at ease in an apartment he had only been living in for a week. The thought that he was leaving in less than three hours had been washed away. A smile slowly spread across her face. Maybe this time, she dared to hope, things would turn out okay for them.

"He's gained a bit of weight and they think he might be able to start breathing on his own soon. We might even be able to bring him home sooner than they thought."

"Jack, he's not even seven months old."

"I didn't say we'd bring him home tomorrow. But maybe he won't be spending six months there like they expected him to."

"Why do you say we?"

Jack stopped in mid-action and spun around to face the artist.

"What?"

"You keep saying we, like you're forgetting that you're leaving in a couple of hours."

"Well you didn't think I'd stay in South America forever, did you?"

Setting down the box of soup he had been holding, Jack grabbed Angela's hand and led her to the living room. Sitting down on the couch, he pulled her down beside him.

"I have to go back today because I still have some work to do." Jack began, his hand never letting go of hers. "But I will be back, that I can promise you. Now that I've met Kyle and that I've seen you again, I can't stay away from you. I'm hooked."

Angela chuckled. Jack smiled tenderly at her.

"I love you, Angela. I'm sorry I even left in the first place. As soon as I'm done in Peru, I'm coming straight back here."

"When?"

"I don't know. It could be a couple of weeks like it could be a couple of days."

"You never told me what you were doing down there."

"I'll explain everything when I come back, I promise."

Tears formed at the back of Angela's eyes.

"How do I know that you're not lying? How do I know you're really going to come back? You promised you wouldn't leave me after we lost our first child but then you took off after I told you I was pregnant again."

A few tears managed to fall. Jack swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"I already explained all of that." He replied, his voice cracking.

"How do I know you're telling the truth this time?"

The movement caught her attention. Angela looked down to see Jack's hand disappear in his right pocket. She felt her throat momentarily close up, knocking the breath out of her, and her heart began to pound hard inside her chest.

Time seemed to stand still as Angela watched in slow motion her boyfriend's movements. After what seemed like an eternity, Jack pulled out something out of his pocket. His fist closed up around the object. Angela looked up at him and both gaze locked.

"I should have done this a long time ago." Jack said, clenching his fist harder around the tiny object. "But I was scared. I was scared I wasn't good enough for you. You're an amazing woman, an extraordinary artist and I just work with bugs all week. I wear jumpsuits and crawl into swamps. I squint down microscopes and look at creepy insects that make you squeal in disgust when you see them. I was afraid that my love for you wasn't going to be enough to keep you with me."

A tear slid down his cheek as he slowly unclenched his fist. Letting go of her other hand, Jack slowly unwrapped the dark purple velvet cover. Angela sobbed happily as she set eyes on the beautiful ring Jack held shakily in his hand.

"Will you?"

Angela sighed happily through her tears.

"Yes." She whispered.

* * *

Temperance stepped inside the lab, Booth following closely behind her.

"Pharatt seemed happy."

Temperance's eyes instinctively went to the catwalk above her head.

"What are you looking at?" Her husband asked, following her gaze.

Seeing no spectres or no alive children sitting up high in the lab, Temperance involuntarily let out a sigh of relief.

"Nothing." She replied before walking off towards her office, leaving a confused partner behind her.

* * *

"Last call for flight 325, Peru."

Jack turned to his girlfriend and kissed her tenderly.

"I really have to go." He said, resting his forehead against hers.

"Then go."

"Promise you'll wait for me."

Angela smiled.

"I think I already did."

* * *

The images flashed before her eyes so quickly, Veronica barely had the chance to make out any of the faces. She liked that moment. The moment where she knew a drawing she had done could change someone's life forever, could give answers to questions for the moment unanswered. Her drawing could help save future lives and make sure a person never hurt another human being. She always got this rush whenever she finished a sketch and gazed down upon it, wondering who the mystery person she had drawn was. Never had she thought that after leaving college, she would have been working for the Jeffersonian, yet she didn't regret it. She loved everybody here, even Temperance who could be so cold and distant at times. Everyone was special to her. She was the youngest one in the team but she felt accepted by all of them.

She wondered how big the FBI database was. She stared at the man on the sketch. His short hair, his piercing almond eyes, his chunky cheeks. He wasn't Asian, that she was willing to swear on her sister's grave.

The pictures stopped flashing abruptly and Veronica stared wide-eyed at the picture the computer had stopped on. Everything, down to the haircut, matched. With her heart racing inside her chest, Veronica clicked on the picture. A second window opened and a file popped up.

Her heart skipped a beat.

_That's not right._


	17. Chapter 16: Dead

"What do you mean dead?" Booth asked as he parked the SUV in the Jeffersonian parking lot.

* * *

"I mean dead. It says so right here." Temperance replied as she read the file Veronica had just handed to her. "Cameron Brown, born March 15th 1944, died April 16th 1982." Veronica double-checked everything but she couldn't find a second match." 

"So you mean to tell me that Cameron Brown is the man Raquel used to see in her bedroom at night?"

"Unless she decided to lie, I'd have to say yes."

Jogging up the stoned stairs, Booth opened the door to the museum and stepped inside. A receptionist nodded politely at him. He nodded politely back.

"But that doesn't make any sense."

"You're telling me."

"What else did the file say?"

Temperance looked down at the papers in front of her.

"Incarcerated for the murder of Emily Brown, commited on February 22nd 1974, sent to life in prison with parole on May 5th 1974. There's a black-and-white picture of Emily Brown. Brown was 5'8", weighed 190 pounds. Half Caucasian, half Asian. Worked as a construction worker. That's pretty much it."

_Cameron Brown always claimed he was innocent. What if now he is killing from beyond the dead, trying to get vengeance after being incarcerated for a crime he didn't commit?_

"I can hear you thinking, Booth."

"And what am I thinking?" Booth asked as he stepped inside the Medico-Legal lab.

"I know you're thinking that Cameron Brown might be killing from beyond the grave but that's impossible. Ghosts cannot kill someone because they don't exist."

The image of the child hanging from the catwalk flashed before her eyes. Temperance shook her head.

"I'm sure Clara isn't going to agree with you on that one."

"I don't care about Clara."

"I know you don't."

Temperance looked up to find Booth standing at her door. Hanging up the phone, she stood up.

"Then why are we talking about her?"

"Did you just hang up on me?"

Temperance rolled her eyes, a smile twitching at her lips.

"Come on. Veronica is waiting for us."

As she passed in front of him, Booth grabbed her arm.

"Just a second." He said before pulling her to him and crushing his lips against hers.

After several seconds, Booth finally pulled away.

"Now we may go."

* * *

"Just so you know, I hate shrinks." Pharatt told the young psychiatrist in front of him. 

"Lots of people do, including me." Dr. Rupert Rowland told the prisoner.

Pharatt frowned.

"Then why are you one?"

The psychiatrist grabbed his clipboard and a pen.

"Pays the bills and I get a lot of vacation."

Pharatt chuckled, making Dr. Rowland smile.

"How old are you anyway?"

"35."

The older man nodded.

"Why are we meeting today?"

"Just an evaluation, to make sure that your testimony is believable when you go to your appeal in a couple of weeks. I'll just be asking you a few questions. Try to answer them as honestly as possible. There is no good or bad answer. Whatever you tell me will only help you win the jury over."

Pharatt nodded.

"The problem with the fear of being underground is that there is no real screening test."

"I know. It's not the first time I've seen a shrink for this."

"Do you know where your phobia all started, Mr. Pharatt?"

Pharatt glanced around the room.

"You know, it's nice to be talking to someone without having a prison guard or two standing in the corner of the room."

"I asked that we be alone. After all, everything you will tell me today is confidential."

Pharatt nodded.

"I'm not sure exactly when it all started. I think about it, you know? All the time. I try to figure out why I'm like that and it's frustrating because I don't know why. It bothers me because I know I'll never be able to get rid of my fear of being underground."

"We're underground right now. How are you feeling?"

"Okay. A bit edgy. I really don't like this room."

"Are you feeling stress in any way?"

Pharatt shrugged. Dr. Rowland scribbled something on a sheet of paper.

"What are you writing?" Pharatt asked, trying to peek over the table and onto the paper.

"If you had to rate your level of stress at the moment, from 1 to 10, what would it be?" Dr. Rowland asked, ignoring the prisoner's question.

"5? 6?"

The young doctor nodded.

"You've lived here for a while now? Is it possible that you have grown accustomed to being underground?"

"My cell is on the second floor. It's no different than having a bedroom on the second floor of a house."

"What is it about the basement that frightens you?"

Pharatt shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"It's stuffy and dark. Everything is so closed up. I just feel trapped, I have trouble breathing and I just need to get out."

"Are you feeling like this at the moment?"

"No. But I do feel tense."

"When is the last time you faced your fear and went down in a basement, other than today?"

Rowland looked up at the man sitting across from him and watched as his features changed from semi-relaxed to tense. He watched Pharatt shift in his seat, visibly uncomfortable at having to talk about the last time he had faced his biggest fear.

"When Melanie's mother died."

"How did she die?"

"She fell down the stairs."

"How long ago was that?"

Pharatt ran a hand through his bushy hair.

"Mel was maybe... 2 or 3 when Monica died. So a very long time ago."

"Tell me about the day your wife died, Mr. Pharatt."

The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was immediately transported back thirty-three years earlier when he had found her laying unconscious, bathing in a puddle of blood.

"It was late at night. Monica had just tucked Melanie in and she was heading down in the basement to clean after our daughter. We had built a small playroom for her a couple of weeks earlier. Even as a toddler, Mel was very messy. Monica didn't see the toy in the stairs before it was too late. I was in the living room when I heard a loud noise. I got up and went to see what all the commotion was about. That's when I saw her. She was just... laying there. Her leg was crooked, there was blood everywhere."

Pharatt stopped to take a deep breath.

"I went down there. I just wanted to see if she was still alive. When I checked her pulse, I felt nothing. Immediately, I felt like the air was being knocked out of me. My legs began shaking and I was sure they were going to give out from under me. I couldn't breathe."

"What did you do after that?"

"I ran back upstairs and called the paramedics."

The psychiatrist nodded.

"And when Melanie fell down the stairs, where were you?"

Tears shot to the prisoner's eyes.

"I was in the living room."

"Oh."

"I knew instantly what had happened."

"Did you go down in the basement at all to check if she was dead?"

"No."

"What did you do afterwards?"

"I called the paramedics."

"And could it be possible that Melanie was still alive while you did that?"

Pharatt frowned.

"Maybe. I don't know."

Dr. Rowland nodded once more before scribbling something down on his clipboard.

"Do you mind if I share this piece of information with your defence lawyer?"

Pharatt shook his head.

"I do have some good news, Mr. Pharatt. I think we may have found the reason behind your fear of being underground."

"Really?" Pharatt asked, surprised.

"Your wife's death. It's something called post-traumatic stress. Finding your wife dead at the bottom of the stairs left a deep scar in your mind and it never fully recovered. Don't look so offended, it happens quite often. To both women _and_ men. It's nothing to be ashamed of. To a certain point, it's a normal reaction."

"How is our meeting going to help my case?"

The psychiatrist was about to answer when another question sprang in his mind.

"Mr. Pharatt, when you were cross-interrogated, did the prosecution mention your dead wife?"

"Yes but I don't see how this is relevant."

"Were you ever suspected of killing your wife?"

Pharatt nodded slowly.

"Why are you making that face?" Pharatt asked, suspicious.

"I'm no lawyer but I surely will pass on that piece of information to the one representing you. I think granting you your release will be much easier than we all expected."

* * *

The Angelator made a buzzing sound as Veronica pressed the "on" button. Booth joined his wife on the other side of the 3-D computer and crossed his arms against his chest. The piece of information Veronica had found confused him. He had checked with Kim Bennett and the young woman had confirmed the identity of the strange man lurking about her home in late afternoon. But if they were to believe the file, the man was no other than Cameron Brown, dead at least sixteen years at the time the Bennetts moved into his former home. Was it possible that Cameron Brown was haunting 53 Maple Street? Clara had felt a presence, she had later told him, but had been unable to tell him whom it belonged to. Raquel had told him there had been a girl sometimes? Melanie? After all, he had seen her himself. 

None of this was making any sense. Never in his entire career in the FBI had he been forced to investigate murders made by possible ghosts. Were ghosts even able to kill people?

He had never truly believed in them. His religious part of him hoped that the spirit of deceased people still lived on after death but ghosts had never been really part of that speech. Evil ghosts even less.

His wife didn't believe in all that nonsense but something was telling him she was beginning to change her mind. She seemed less sure about the evidences she discovered. He knew that she had felt irritated at finding indications on Melanie's body that she hadn't been pushed down the stairs, after Clara had foreseen the same thing. She hadn't said it but her tone on the phone had spoken volumes.

"What do you think?"

A pain on his right side told him Temperance had just jabbed him with her elbow.

"I'm sorry. What?"

Veronica and Temperance exchanged looks.

"I said that it would be a good idea to start at the top of the stairs and then go down one step each time. I asked you if you thought it was a good idea."

"Oh yeah. Sure. Why not?"

Veronica nodded and Booth thought he heard his wife sigh in irritation.

The couple watched in mild disgust as a miniature version of Melanie fell down the stairs to collapse with a hard cement floor. Veronica, in front of the keyboard, clipboard in hand, forced herself not to close her eyes.

"So?"

Temperance shook her head.

"No. That's not it. There was only a minor fracture to the skull. From the top of the stairs, her skull would have been completely cracked and there would have been blood everywhere. Try going down two stairs."

"There wasn't any blood?" Booth asked, surprised.

"There were, just not everywhere. The blood could have easily come from the broken nose the victim had."

Booth agreed.

Two simulations later, they hit their match.

"I think we got it." Veronica said as she pressed replay.

The three of them watched for a second time as Melanie Pharatt was tripped from the middle of the staircase and fell down the five last steps. A tiny noise imitated the sound of Melanie Pharatt's bones breaking and Veronica winced slightly.

"I'll never get used to that sound."

Temperance remained silent and circled the computer. Stopping beside Veronica, she turned to the artist.

"Do you think you can estimate the height of that particular step?"

"I can try." Veronica replied.

There was silence while Veronica proceeded to calculate the distance between the floor and the step.

"At that point, I'd have to say five feet."

Booth and Temperance exchanged looks. Booth sighed.

"Wow! That rules out _a lot_ of suspects." Booth remarked, sarcastically.

Veronica shrugged.

"It's the best I can do."

"I know."


	18. Chapter 17: Home Sweet Home

"What do you have in this suitcase?" Temperance asked, annoyed, as she dragged her partner's suitcase down the corridor to his apartment.

The suitcase seemed to weigh a ton and Temperance wondered how many objects her partner could have stolen from a hospital. She had witnessed, numerous times, his tendency of taking things out of hotel rooms and Temperance wondered if he was crazy enough to take things from a hospital as well.

"Clothes. Souvenirs. Bandages. _Pills_." Ryan replied as he slowly followed behind her.

"What kind of souvenirs?"

Ryan ignored her as they came to a stop in front of his door.

"I'm so happy to finally be out of that hell hole." Ryan went out, attempting in vain to unlock the door.

"I think they're happy too." Temperance said as she snatched the keys from his hands.

Ryan glared at her. She ignored him.

"You can be pretty grumpy when you're sick."

The door unlocked, she pushed it open and grunted softly as she lifted the heavy suitcase and dragged it inside the apartment.

"Home sweet home." Ryan sighed as he stepped inside his apartment. "You know, I'm sure I'll get better even quicker here than I would have done in that building they call a hospital."

"Will you stop complaining?" Temperance replied. "And where would you want me to set this?"

"In my room, please."

Ryan watched as his partner disappeared down the hallway and opened the door to his bedroom. Slowly, he then made his way to the couch and sat down uncomfortably on it, grunting in pain as he did so. He was sore everywhere. Every muscle seemed to protest in unison every time he moved.

The cast on his legs banged loudly on the coffee table as Ryan rested both feet onto it. Pathetically, he tried to reach for the remote beside his foot before collapsing back against the couch.

"What are you doing?" Temperance asked, catching him at his fifth attempt.

"I want to watch some TV." Ryan replied, sheepishly. "But the remote is too far away."

Temperance rolled her eyes and chuckled before grabbing the remote and throwing it to him. Catching it with one hand, Ryan turned on the television.

"At least your accident hasn't damaged your reflexes." Temperance noted as she sat down beside him.

Silence quickly fell upon the room as the pair began to watch the news. But after a few minutes silence, Ryan turned to his partner.

"Why are you here?"

Temperance looked at him and frowned.

"I drove you home from the hospital."

"No, I know _that_. I meant, what are you still doing here?"

Turning back to the TV, Temperance sighed. Taking this as a hint that something was bothering her, Ryan turned off the television.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

Ryan's eyebrows shot upwards.

"Temperance, I know you. I know when something is troubling you."

Temperance remained silent.

"It's that case, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"It's still not solved?"

Temperance shook her head.

"We're going around in circles. It's been three weeks since we've found the bones in the Robertson's basement and we still don't have a single clue as to whom killed these victims. Booth is frustrated and it's taking a tole on our marriage."

Ryan nodded.

"The only suspect we have is a ghost."

"A ghost?" Ryan asked, surprised and slightly confused.

A smile tugged at Temperance's lips as the ridiculous idea of a ghost committing murder started to sink in.

"Yes, a ghost. This man called Cameron Brown whom we found out Friday morning died in 1982 also lived at 53 Maple Street."

"And he would be committing murder _why_?"

"He was apparently sentenced to jail for the murder of his daughter, Emily Brown. He always claimed he was innocent and he ended up committing suicide in 1982. He hung himself in his cell during the night. There was no suicide note, no nothing. The guards found him the next morning, rigid as a post, hanging from the ceiling."

"How did Booth come to the conclusion that Brown was killing from beyond the grave?"

"He didn't." Temperance replied. "A fifteen-year-old girl came to us, saying she had information on the case we were working on. She told us she spoke to Cameron Brown through a Ouija board and that he told her he killed his daughter."

"A Ouija board?"

"Yes."

Ryan chuckled. Temperance frowned.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I'm sorry Tempe but that's just the most ridiculous story I have ever heard."

Temperance slapped him playfully the only part of his arm that wasn't covered in a white cast.

"Stop it. This is serious."

"Of course." Ryan replied, a smile tugging dangerously at his lips. "Listen. How about you fix up some food and we'll discuss this further over lunch?"

Temperance sighed.

"Fine." She said, as she got up. "What do you want in your sandwich?"

* * *

"You know," Ryan began, taking a bite out of the sandwich his partner had just brought him, "maybe you just need an outsider's point of view. Start from the beginning. Tell me about the victims."

Temperance took a sip from her water and set her glass back on the coffee table.

"All victims were nine years old at the time of their death. Each child has been murdered every eight years, for a time range of forty years. The first one was killed in 1982 and the last one just recently."

Ryan nodded.

"Mackenzie Robertson. Saw her story on the news. Go on."

"All victims died of similar causes such as trauma to the skull, strangulation and/or drowning. All of them lived on 53 Maple Street at the time of the murder. No other traces of anything were found on the bones. They were all clean."

"No dirt? No nothing?"

"Nothing. They were cleaner than the lab."

Ryan's hand stopped in mid-air.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"I failed, didn't I?"

"Hey, can't blame you for trying."

Temperance rolled her eyes.

"_Anyway_, the bones were clean. Our new entomologist found no trace of any kind of residue, no dirt. The bones were found in a deep hole and it took me three hours to get them all back up. None of the bones were missing and apart from old injuries and the causes of death, they were all in pretty good shape."

"Where were the victims killed? Was that identified?"

Temperance's expression turned hesitant.

"I'll understand if you don't want to tell me."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, Ryan. I'm just not sure if I can."

"Okay."

"They all died in mysterious circumstances. The first one was abducted during an earthquake, the second one was tripped down the stairs, the third one disappeared in broad daylight from her backyard, the fourth one was drowned in her bathtub and the fifth one pushed off a roof. No forced entry, no apparent signs of struggle on any of the victims."

"And what did the old reports say?"

"Nothing we couldn't figure out by ourselves. This case is just bizarre."

"I can see that."

"Booth has even agreed to have a psychic help us. Just shows how low we've gotten, can't even solve a mistake by ourselves without the help of a fraud."

Ryan chuckled.

"Aren't you being a little harsh?"

"Barely."

Silence fell once again over the room. The pair ate in silence as Ryan observed his friend. Over the last couple of years they had been working together, he had learned to read her. He could tell by her movements and her facial expressions practically what she was thinking. He knew instinctively when something was wrong, when she was angry, surprised, scared, sad and even happy. For years he had congratulated himself for knowing how to see through her. Not many people succeeded, he knew it, and for a while, he had doubted her own husband had been able to do so.

The telephone rang in the kitchen. Temperance turned her partner.

"Want me to get that?"

Ryan shook his head.

"I have an answering machine."

Temperance nodded.

"You haven't told me yet."

Temperance avoided his gaze.

"Told you what?"

"The real reason why you're confused."

"I'm not confused."

"Okay. Then what are you?"

"I'm nothing, Ryan."

One look at her partner told her that he didn't believe her. She sighed frustratedly.

"I feel like I'm missing something."

Ryan frowned.

"Have you ever had the feeling you were not seeing something that was there?"

"Not following you, Tempe."

Temperance got to her feet.

"No matter how many times I look at the remains, I can't seem to find what I'm missing. I can't put my finger on it but I'd bet my life there's something more these bones can tell me that my eyes aren't seeing."

"Maybe."

"I just don't know what it is."

Ryan shrugged. Setting his plate beside him, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television once more. Temperance, still lost in her thoughts, seemed oblivious to her surroundings.

"What could it be?"

* * *

**Okay, here's where I want to hear your thoughts. Any idea what it is that Temperance is not seeing? **


	19. Chapter 18: Plan A

**A/N: The answer to my question in the last chapter is this chapter!**

* * *

The guards stood on each side of the one-way mirror when David Pharatt stepped inside the interview room for the third time in three weeks. One look at the crowd gathered at the table appeased the prisoner. If everything went well, in a week, he would finally be out of the hell hole he had been sent to for a murder he hadn't even commit. After years of pent up frustration, he had finally found someone who could corroborate his story. Someone had finally listened to him and hadn't treated him like a crazy person, despite what his physical appearance might have told them. Never in his life had he wanted to hurt his daughter. She had been his reason for living after his wife had passed away, the true and only love of his life.

Sitting down at the table, Pharatt examined the faces in front of him. He immediately recognized the Booths, the first people who had believed in his story, no questions asked. Dr. Massey sat directly across from him, Jason Triggs at his side. The only unfamiliar face belonged to a blond woman, who he quickly found out was named Rebecca James and would also be defending him.

"Don't worry, Mr. Pharatt. Rebecca James is the best lawyer in town. She has never lost an appeal. She's here to help you." Jason Triggs told him before throwing the woman a prefabricated charm smile.

Rebecca playfully rolled her eyes, smile tugging at her lips, before turning to the prisoner.

"I'm guessing you know why we are all here today."

Pharatt nodded. The sound of her voice reminded him of his own wife.

"I must warn you, Mr. Pharatt. Reversing the jury's decision at this point might prove to be difficult."

Pharatt frowned.

"Why? I was told there was no way we could lose. Dr. Massey evaluated me and said I was still scared of being underground. Dr. Booth found evidences that Melanie was tripped down the stairs and then strangled. It couldn't have been me."

"I understand all of that. The problem is that you were sentenced to jail in 1994. That was twenty-four years ago. The jury and the judge will want to know why you have waited all these years before getting help into getting an appeal."

"But I'm innocent!" Pharatt replied, desperately. "I didn't kill my daughter."

"We know that." Booth said.

Pharatt turned to him.

"My lawyers never mentioned the possibility of an appeal. They told me to take whatever the jury had given me then ask for parole at the two thirds of my sentence."

"We're very sorry to hear that your lawyers didn't advise you properly." Booth went on. "But we're here today to plan our attack, to make sure that you get set free without having to report to a parole officer every day for the next couple of years."

Pharatt took a deep breath then slowly released it.

"There is no way I am humiliating myself by going to court only to be told I am staying here for the next eight years."

Rebecca nodded.

"You got thirty years for the murder of your daughter. It's already been twenty-two. If we lose, you can always request a meeting with the parole board."

Pharatt sighed.

"Fine."

Rebecca turned to the others.

"Our best card to play is the fact that it took two years for the police to arrest him. His daughter was killed in 1992 yet he was only arrested in 1994."

Then, turning to Pharatt, she asked:

"Under which evidence were you arrested then sent to prison?"

Pharatt remain silent for a few seconds as he thought back.

"I had no valuable alibi. I was in the house when Mel fell down the stairs. She and I lived alone. Her mother died the same way and I had been a suspect. It was later proved that it was an accident but when Mel died in a similar way, the police found it odd. They suspected me immediately."

"Reasonable doubt. You were sentenced to thirty years in prison even though there was a large reasonable doubt about your innocence. Someone in the system didn't do their job properly. That can be our main attack."

"Plan A." Triggs added.

The others around the table agreed. And as the professionals began to discuss their strategy, Pharatt lost himself in thoughts of a possible free life. Finally, after years of misery, he would be able to see the sun, to feel the rain pouring down on him, to breathe fresh air, to see the world living around him.

Nervousness suddenly kicked in and Pharatt found himself wondering, for the first time in years, if being free was really what he wanted.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late." Temperance said, panting, as she sat down at the table. "I got caught up at a meeting."

Angela simply shrugged.

"How did it go?" She asked, bringing her elbows on the table and linking her fingers together.

"Very well, I'd say. Booth thinks Pharatt has a good chance of being set free. I mean, it would be fun for him. He spent twenty-two years in prison for a crime he didn't even commit. And... Angela, are you listening to me?"

Angela looked up, confused.

"What?"

"I asked you if you were listening to me."

"Sorry, Sweetie. I just got distracted." Angela replied as she began playing with her engagement ring. "So Booth thinks Pharatt has a chance of being set free?"

Temperance nodded as a young woman walked up to their table. The waitress took their order and left.

"How is Kyle doing?" Temperance asked after their food had arrived.

"His condition is stable." Angela replied. "Nothing has changed in the last week, except he's gained a bit of weight. But he's still not breathing on his own but the doctors are confident that he soon will be."

"Did they say how long they are keeping him?"

"Probably eight more weeks, maybe less if he progresses quicker. I went to see him this morning. I think he recognizes me."

Temperance chuckled.

"I hardly doubt it. His brain isn't developed enough for him to be able to recognize you."

"Oh well. I still think he knows who I am. He surely knows who Jack is. He even smiled at him."

"It was a reflex. Your son is not even a month old and he was born prematurely. So really, when you think about, he's minus two months old."

Angela shook her head.

"You know Temperance, a couple of weeks ago, you would have bummed me out with your harsh realism. But today, nothing. I don't even feel a bit depressed. I'm too happy!"

"Thing are okay with Jack I'm guessing."

Angela squealed, making Temperance wince.

"Yes!" The artist replied, as she fell back against her chair. "We talked and made up. He told me why he did what he did and I forgave him."

"That quickly?" Temperance asked, surprised. "Do you remember how mad you were at him after he left?"

"Yeah well, things changed. Besides, you forgave Booth quickly too after you found out he was gambling again."

"He was sick, he was practically dying. It wasn't the same thing."

Angela wiped a strand of hair out of her face and was going to reply when Temperance frowned. A smile tugged at her lips as her friend's eyes grew round in surprise.

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That!" Temperance replied, grabbing her friend's hand. "This thing on your finger."

"Oh that?" Angela said, innocently, pulling her hand away. "It's just a ring."

Temperance sighed, exasperatedly.

"Angela, that's not just a ring. That's an engagement ring." She said, matter-of-factly.

The smile on Angela's face stretched fully from ear-to-ear.

"When?"

"Just before he left."

"And you said yes?"

"Well I'm wearing the ring, aren't I?"

"I can't believe it."

Angela giggled

"I've been trying to show it to you for the past hour and you didn't even notice. I'm so happy Temperance. Forgiving Jack is the best decision I have ever taken in my entire life."

Temperance smiled.

"I used to feel like I was sinking into depression. I felt like I was falling into a bottomless, black hole and I didn't think I would ever feel better. But now..."

Temperance's eyes widened and she felt her heart skip a beat. Angela's words became a blur as her friend's last words began to sink in. Suddenly, she knew. She knew what she had missed.

In an instant, her hand plunged into her pocket. Grabbing her cellphone, she dialed her husband's number.

"What are you doing?" Angela asked, confused.

Temperance looked up, an excited smile plastered on her face.

"Calling Booth."

"Why?"

"Because you have just given me an answer to my question."

* * *

**Weird. My chapters seem to get shorter and shorter each time! I'll work on that, promise!**


	20. Chapter 19: The Room Under the Basement

In a fifteen-minute time lap, he had been by her side. He had told her to wait for him at the restaurant where she was having lunch with her best friend, that he was coming as quickly as he could and that they'd talk more on their way to Virginia. She had waited impatiently for him, barely listening to what Angela was telling her, casting glances out of the window every few seconds in hopes of seeing her husband's SUV parked in front of the building. She had been unaware of the sighs of mild annoyance made by her friend, the breakthrough the only thing important to her. Finally, the itch had been scratched. Her vague feeling that she was missing something had turned out true. The answer to her question had been in front of her all along only it had been too obvious to actually see it.

The second she saw the FBI issue vehicle, she was on her feet. Apologizing over and over again to her best friend, she grabbed her purse and dashed out the door, leaving a slightly yet happy Angela alone behind her. In an instant, she was jumping in the car and slamming the door shut. In a flash, they were out of the parking lot.

"Why are we driving so fast?" Temperance asked as Booth get on the highway.

"We're in a rush." Booth replied as he switched lanes.

"No we're not. Lucy assured me she'd be there all day. It's only two o'clock. If you drive fast, we won't even make it to Winchester."

Reluctantly, Booth slowed down.

"Are you sure?" He asked, glancing at her.

"About the bones? Yes, I'm sure. The bones are in perfect condition, not one of them is broken. The only way the bones could still be intact is if they were brought down that hole, not dumped."

"How deep was the hole?"

"The children and Richard were able to see them from where they were. I'm guessing it's not more than probably ten feet deep, maybe fifteen."

"Did you measure it?"

"No. But that's what we'll do today."

"There's just another thing I don't understand. If the bones weren't dumped in the hole like you're thinking, then why was there even a hole in the ground?"

"The house was built in the 1950s. It's possible that the hole once served a purpose and was later condemned when it was no longer needed. There are a lot of explainations for that. The point is, there was a wooden floor hiding it. Whoever ditched the remains down in the ground didn't take off the board every time."

"True."

A light rain began to pour as a thin fog fell upon the highway. The cars ahead began disappearing as they drove further into the fog.

"Really nice day today." Booth said sarcastically.

"Angela seemed to think so. She's engaged. Hodgins proposed before he left for South America."

Booth raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"Again?"

"What do you mean again?"

"Remember the last time?"

"Well that wasn't the same thing. She couldn't..."

"I know." Booth replied, cutting her off. "We've had this discussion before."

Temperance turned to the window.

* * *

The sound of doors slamming echoed off the walls of the houses on Maple Street. Such a quiet neighborhood that often left Temperance wondering what was going on inside these homes. An old-fashioned street, reminding Temperance of her younger days where trees were still present in the city and not just in the countryside. Thick and tall trees casted shadows down on the lawns, brick houses lined side-by-side all the way down to Rupert Avenue, bicycles laying lifelessly in the driveways. As she looked at all of that this afternoon, Temperance wondered when she had grown so old-fashioned. 

Booth rang the doorbell which chimed inside the house.

"What exactly are we searching for, Bones?" Booth whispered.

"We're looking for anything that might lead down below the basement: a trap, a hidden door, another hole. Anything will do."

"Okay."

Temperance frowned.

"Why are we whispering?"

"I don't know."

The door in front of them opened and a rather tired-looking Lucy Robertson appeared. Smiling politely at the couple, she invited them in before closing the door behind them.

"What can I do for you today?" She asked her friends as they walked further into the house.

"We just need to take a quick look at your basement." Booth replied.

"We have reasons to believe that the bones were not dumped into the hole but, in fact, placed inside what might be a small chamber below your basement."

Lucy frowned.

"A room below our basement? How is that possible?"

"We're still unsure of that." Temperance answered, honestly. "But bones don't lie, Lucy. The bones are in perfect condition. Not a single scratch on them was detected."

Lucy nodded.

"Search away, then. If I can be of any help, just tell me. I'll be in the kitchen if you ever need anything."

"Great, thanks."

Nodding one more time, Lucy turned around and left the partners behind.

"Ready?" Booth asked, turning to his wife.

"Let's find that door!"

* * *

The phone rang. Lucy jumped, startled. With shaky hands, she picked up her cordless phone and answered. 

"Hello?"

* * *

They had been searching for ten minutes when Booth let out a loud sigh. Turning around, Temperance frowned. 

"What?"

"Did you find anything?" Booth asked, annoyed.

"No." Temperance replied, as she ran her hand along the wooden wall. "Nothing yet. But there _must_ be something."

"Is it possible that you are wrong?"

Temperance raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"I don't mean that you are wrong about the bones but could you be wrong about the location of the entrance or the way they were put in what we can only assume is only a large hole?"

Temperance shrugged, momentarily defeated.

"It's possible. But the bones were in too much perfect condition. If they were placed in a large hole underground, we would have found dirt residue on them yet the bones were clean which brings me to the conclusion that there isn't any dirt in that "large hole"."

"You've really mastered the art of air quotes, Bones."

Temperance ignored him.

"Let's just keep searching."

"We've already searched the entire basement, Honey. We're not going to find anything else."

"Did you just call me Honey on the job?"

"Sorry. It's a habit."

"Well if the entrance isn't in the basement then where could it be?"

Footsteps above them told them Lucy was still in the kitchen. The faint sound of a telephone ringing reached their ears, followed by the muffled voice of the woman. The rest of the conversation was lost and silence once again filled the dark room.

"What are you thinking about?" Temperance asked, after a few seconds of silence.

Booth, who was lost in his thoughts, looked up.

"The backyard."

"What about it?"

"If the entrance to the small chamber isn't in here, which it obviously isn't since we've searched the whole room already, then it must be outside. The Robertson have a big shed outside. It might be in there. There could be a trapdoor or something."

Temperance tilted her head, considering the idea before nodding in approval.

"It's possible."

* * *

The metal door creaked loudly as Booth pushed it open with all his strength. The air was stuffy with humidity and the shed, which looked more like a barn than a shed, smelled of recently-cut grass as the partners stepped inside the rusty cabin. The only source of light came from the sun, which casted a single ray through the door, illuminating only half of the surface. A few steps and the couple was engulfed in darkness. 

"If there's a trap door in here, I don't think we'll be able to find it." Temperance noted.

Tools, old cans of paint, a lawn mower, a hose and bicycles crowded the shed and made it almost impossible to move. Booth cursed loudly as his shoulder hit a metal shelf on the wall. The paint cans rattled at the impact.

"You know what, Booth?" Temperance asked, after tripping over the hose. "I don't think there's a trap door inside this shed. It's much too crowded and the only way in would have been to open the door, which makes so much it would have attracted anybody's attention if someone would have attempted to slide it open."

Booth nodded.

Stepping back out in the fresh air, Booth closed the shed door behind them. The wind had picked up slightly and Temperance shivered. A look at her watch told her they'd been searching for at least thirty minutes.

"We have to pick up the kids soon." Temperance informed her husband.

"I know. But I don't want to leave until we find the entrance."

"Maybe I'm wrong, Booth. Maybe there isn't a room under Lucy's basement."

But Booth shook his head.

"No. I think you're right. I just think we aren't looking in the right place."

A squirrel jumped down from a branch and onto the metallic shed. Booth turned around, startled by the noise. It was then he saw it. From the corner of his eye. A form. Something had moved.

His head snap to the left of the shed. His heart stopped momentarily as his gaze focused on the little girl he had seen while visitng Mickey's room a couple of weeks earlier. His blood froze in his veins as he recognized Melanie Pharatt.

The child stared at him, her eyes devoid of any expression. Then, extending her left arm, she pointed to the back of the shed.

"What? You want me to look there?"

The words had slipped past his lips.

"Who are you talking to?"

Booth spun around to look at his wife before his eyes darted back to the spot where Melanie had stood only to find that the apparition had vanished.

Without answering his wife, he disappeared behind the shed. Temperance watched, confused.

"Bones! Come here!"

Curious, she joined her husband. She stared in surprise as Booth pushed long strings of grass apart to reveal a wooden trap door in the ground.

"I think we've found the entrance." Booth said, beaming proudly at her.

The hairs at the back of his neck rose but Booth chose to ignore the feeling.

* * *

The corridor was stuffy and small and both had to duck in order not to hit their heads on the low ceiling. The gravel crunched under their steps and the path seemed to go on forever before they finally a wooden door. The knob turned easily, making Booth wonder why the thing wasn't locked, considering it had once contained corpses.

Booth pushed the door open. Darkness, which had engulfed them the second they had closed the trap door behind them, stretched in front of them, making impossible to see anything. Booth's flashlight barely illuminated half of the room.

"Seems like the room is bigger than we thought it was."

"It's a weird place to hide a body." Temperance added. "Our suspect would have had to carry the body _and_ a flashlight to see where he was going. Let's look and see if we can't find any clues."

Booth nodded.

The room, just as Booth had noticed, was larger than they had first guessed. Wooden boards covered the soil which had immediately explained why no soil residue had been found on the bones. The hole opening to the Robertson's basement had immediately been found but had given no clue to neither of them as why a hole had actually been made in the floor of the basement in the first place.

They had been searching for a few minutes when the sound of footsteps reached their ears. Booth and Temperance stopped in their tracks.

"Someone's coming." Temperance whispered.

Booth nodded.

"Let's hide in a corner."

Choosing the corner to the far left of the door, they huddled closely. They held their breaths as the door to the secret room creaked open. A noise resembling something being dumped on the floor reached their ears, which was immediately followed by a quiet sigh. They waited in silence as the intruder began to walk around. Temperance couldn't help but find it odd and wondered how the stranger could walk around the room so easily in the darkness.

She felt Booth's hand take hers and instinctively knew what he wanted to do. She followed him quietly, step by step, as Booth walked in the direction where he thought the intruder had gone.

They had reached what she thought was half of the room when Booth let go of her hand. She saw, from the corner of her eye, the glow of her husband's flashlight.

"FBI! Freeze!"

The flashlight illuminated the area. Temperance couldn't help the feeling of surprise as her eyes fell on the intruder.

* * *

**Okay so that didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it to be! Hope you liked it anyway.**


	21. Chapter 20: Jimmy's Story

**A/N: I'll make this short since you already have a lot of reading to do for this chapter. I swear, I had to hold myself back on that one because I would have written more than 13 pages. Anyway happy reading! I'm glad you all still like this story. By the way, the spelling mistake at end was put there on purpose.**

* * *

She had expected anyone but the child she was currently staring at in the warmth and light of the Robertson's living room to be the intruder in that dark and stuffy underground room. The way his eyes had shown in the spotlight, almost like those of a cat, had startled her. Now that he was out in the sunlight, he looked pale and, through his thin skin, Temperance could distinguish every single bone in his body. She mentally named them all she looked him over. His clothes were dirty and way too big for him, because of the fact he looked like he hadn't eaten in days or the fact that they had already been too big for him in the first place, she had no idea.

She wondered who he was. The child refused to talk and wouldn't break the silence to even tell them his name. Booth had gone to the SUV to fetch her laptop.

"If he's reported missing," He had said more to him than to her "we'll find his file in the missing person's database."

He had waited a few seconds, to see if the child was change his mind, before walking out.

The front door opened and Booth stepped inside the house. Seconds later, he was coming around the corner and walking inside the living room, closing the french doors behind him. Sitting down beside her on the love seat, he handed her the laptop.

"Male. Brown hair and brown eyes. Between four foot eight and five feet tall. Possibly between 9 and 12 years old." Booth told her, as he examined the little boy.

Temperance typed in the information and watched as pictures of various children flashed rapidly before her eyes. In a matter of seconds, twenty hits had been found.

Leaning closer to his partner, Booth looked down at the small screen. He shook his head at the first photo.

"Not him. Click on the next one."

Booth looked up every now and then at the child sitting across from him. His eyes were cast on the floor, never leaving the tip of his worn-out running shoes. More questions than answers ran through his mind. Who was this child? What was he doing under the Robertson's home? Did he know who had killed Mackenzie? Had he heard? Had he seen? Had he known about the other remains? Had he seen them?

The tenth picture showed a young boy with short brown hair, an angelic smile plastered on his sweet face. Booth read the name before turning to his wife. Temperance nodded. Though the little boy in the picture looked younger than the one sitting across from them, they knew they had found their match.

"Jeremy Lexington?"

The boy looked up from his shoes. His eyes were empty, devoid of any emotion, but Temperance could tell by the way his shoulders had slumped at the sound of his name that he knew he was defeated.

"My friends call me Jimmy." Jeremy mumbled under his breath.

"Well, _Jimmy_, now that we've found your name, would you mind telling us what you were doing in that room?"

The boy remained silent.

"Or maybe we should just call your parents and ask them to come down here."

"They wouldn't come anyway."

The tone had been so low, Booth hadn't understood a word.

"I'm sorry, what?"

The boy looked up at the agent, annoyed.

"They wouldn't come down anyway!" The boy replied, louder. "They don't care."

Booth and Temperance exchanged a look.

"What do you mean they don't care?"

"My dad left me when I was four and my mom recently got a new boyfriend and she hasn't even looked at me since then."

Booth sighed.

"Is that why you've been living in that room?"

"I ran away from home." Jimmy replied.

"When?"

"I can't remember."

"The file says that his mother reported him missing about three weeks ago." Temperance said.

Booth nodded.

"What have you been doing all this time?"

"Walking around, mostly, stealing stuff to eat."

"Are you from Winchester?"

Jimmy nodded.

Booth wondered how an 11-year-old boy, who had run away from home and was reported missing for over three weeks, had been able to walk around the city undetected.

"Obviously you haven't only been stealing food. We found the Robertson children's belongings in your bag, stuff they have claimed went missing. How did you get them?"

The boy glanced briefly at Lucy Robertson, who had joined the couple in the living room.

"I'd sneak in during the night. I left all my stuff at my house and I needed stuff. Am I going to go to jail?"

Booth turned to Lucy who shook her head.

"I won't be pressing charges."

"You're pretty lucky, Jimmy." Booth added.

The boy nodded.

"Come on. I'll drive you home."

Jimmy shook his head.

"No. I'm not going back!"

"Why not?"

"Because they don't want me there."

"You don't know that. If your mother reported you missing, it's because she cares. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have done so. Come on. I'm sure your mother is worried."

Jimmy looked up at the agent and frowned. As much as he dreaded going back home, he knew he had no choice. The FBI agent sitting across from him was much taller and much stronger than he was. He wouldn't be able to fight him off even if he tried.

Reluctantly, the boy got to his feet, followed by Booth.

"You go home. I'll drive him alone."

"How am I supposed to pick up the kids? We left my car at the museum."

"Just walk." Booth replied. "It's not far."

Temperance sighed irritatedly.

* * *

"So where do you live?" 

Jimmy remained silent and stared out the window. Booth sighed loudly.

"Look, I would really like to help you. But if you can't even answer my questions, I'll have no choice but to hand you over to the local PD and they're going to find out on their own where you live. It's your call. Either you don't talk and I drop you off at the police station and they will drive you home in a police car, or you tell me where you live and you get to be brought him by a cool FBI guy in a cool SUV."

A smile twitched at Jimmy's lips.

"You're not _that_ cool." Jimmy said, turning to him.

Booth smiled and the boy shyly did the same.

"So? What will it be?"

"98 Coulter Street."

_On the other side of the city. _Booth thought. _This boy has come a long way by foot to get where he is now._

Putting the SUV in reverse, Booth pulled out of the driveway. They had been driving for a few minutes when Jimmy spoke again.

"You'll probably want to ask me about the bones?"

Booth remained silent. Jimmy, getting no answer, turned back to the window.

* * *

Booth wasn't surprised when he turned onto Coulter Street. Neat neighborhood, upper middle-class to lower upper-class, houses that he wouldn't be able to afford on his own salary. He didn't like to judge but the neighborhood spoke of child negligence, done by parents who were so focused on their job they forgot that buying children stuff could not replace parental love and affection. Yet, when he looked at the little boy, he felt as though his mother wasn't part of that crowd. It seemed more to him she had been pushed into that world in spite of herself. 

He turned to the boy.

"That's a pretty nice neighborhood you live in."

Jimmy nodded.

"My mom and I moved here about six months ago. We live with her boyfriend now."

"What's his name?"

"Corey."

Booth nodded. His instincts had once again proved him right.

They stopped in front of a two-storey pink-brick house. Flowers had already started to bloom on the front lawn and a vine climbed up a white rack beside the front door. Three cars were parked in the driveway, including a mini-van.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I have a sister. Her name is Clarissa. She's thirteen. Corey has two kids too that live with us. They're younger."

"How old?"

"Seven and four. Dylan, the older, is okay but Arianna is a pain in the a-"

"I see." Booth replied, cutting off the end of the young boy's sentence. "Come on. Let's go inside."

Opening the door, Booth climbed out of the SUV. He was surprised to see Jimmy getting out so willingly. He had expected him to put up a fight, like he had done for everything they had wanted him to do since they found him. Yet, there he was joining him on the other side of the vehicle. Maybe the boy _did_ want to go home.

They walked up to the front door in silence and Booth rang the bell. He turned to the boy who now looked nervous.

"Everything is going to be okay."

Jimmy nodded.

"Do you think anybody is home?"

"All the cars are here. I wouldn't see why not."

They heard footsteps on the other side of the door and by the sound of them, Booth guessed they didn't belong to Jimmy's mother.

The front door opened to reveal a teenage girl, not much taller than Jimmy. Her eyes widened at the sight of her brother.

"MOM!"

"Clarissa?" Booth asked.

The girl nodded.

"Can we come in?"

Clarissa stepped aside, letting her brother and the stranger with him inside of the house. Booth was closing the door behind him when a young looking woman came around the corner.

"What's the matter, Clari?"

She stopped in her path as her eyes fell on her son. Her hands immediately went to her face and she gasped loudly.

"Jimmy?"

Her voice shook, letting no doubt as to what she might have been feeling. Soon, tears shot to her eyes and she was launching towards her son. Gathering him in her arms, she began sobbing. Booth simply watched, silently.

Minutes passed and the sobbing slowly subsided. Jimmy's mother finally disengaged her son from her grip and turned to the FBI agent.

"Thank you for bringing my son home."

"No problem, ma'am."

"Where did you find him?"

"It's a long story to tell out in the hall. Would you mind if we sat down somewhere? I'll tell you all about Jimmy's story and then I would like to ask him a few questions."

"About the bones?" Jimmy asked.

Booth ignored his question.

"Shall we?"

* * *

Jimmy's mother, who turned out to be called Hannah, led them to a small room that Booth believed was only used when greeting guests. Two white armchair and a vanilla love seat served as the only piece of furniture in the room, along with a coffee table and a lamp. 

"This is quite a nice home you've got here."

Hannah nodded.

"We moved in with my husband just before Christmas. It was supposed to be a Christmas presents for both his kids and mine but it didn't turn out exactly how he have planned."

The siblings remained quiet.

"What?" The mother asked, as though surprised her children hadn't agreed with her.

Clarissa and Jimmy exchanged looks.

"Mom, don't get mad." Clarissa started. "It's just that since you and Corey moved in together, you kinda..."

"I kinda what?" Hannah asked, offended.

"You kinda stopped caring." Jimmy replied.

"I did _not _stop caring."

"It seems like you did, Mom." Clarissa continued. "Jimmy and I felt like we didn't exist to you anymore. All you cared about was Corey, Dylan and Arianna."

Hannah turned to her son.

"You feel the same way?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Why do you think I ran away?"

Hannah's eyes widened.

"You ran away? Where?"

"That's why I'm here, Mrs...?"

"Stiles. Mrs. Stiles."

"Well, Mrs Stiles, this is why I'm here. You see, my partner and I found your son living in a room under a family's basement."

"What?"

"The problem is that this home is currently under investigation because of a murder that occurred."

Hannah's head snapped to her son.

"You lived under 53 Maple Street?"

Booth frowned.

"I never mentioned anything about 53 Maple Street."

"Of course you didn't." Hannah replied, never taking her eyes off her son. "But there aren't a lot of murders here in Winchester, Agent Booth. I just put two and two together."

Booth nodded.

"Mrs Stiles, I would like to ask your son a few questions if you don't mind. Since he is a minor, I needed to wait for a parent or legal guardian to be present while I question him."

"You will do no such thing, Agent Booth."

"Why not?"

"Because my son is no murderer."

"I never considered Jimmy to be the murderer. But since he has been living under that basement for nearly a month now, I just thought maybe he would know something."

"Well he doesn't."

"Mom." Jimmy warned her.

"Shut up, Jeremy. You will not answer any questions."

"Mom!" Clarissa said, embarrassed by her mother. "Jimmy said..."

"He said nothing, Clarissa. Mind your own business, will you?"

"Mrs Stiles, I'll ask you to stay polite towards your children. There is no reason for you to be rude with them."

"Don't tell me how to raise my kids, Agent Booth."

"Mom!"

"I told you to shut up, Jeremy."

"That's exactly what we mean when we say that you don't care, Mom. Jeremy is trying to tell you that he knows something about the murders and you just tell him to shut up. You never care what we have to say and you always ignore us. You weren't like that before."

Hannah sighed.

"Fine." She said, her face crunched up in an attempt to control her anger. "Talk."

Booth turned to Jimmy.

"How did you know about the trap door?"

"A little girl showed me. It was a little past midnight when I walked in front of 53 Maple Street. I saw a girl sitting standing on the lawn and she told me to follow her. So I did. She led me to the far end of the backyard, towards the shed. Then she pointed to the door. I told her thanks and I climbed down."

Booth frowned.

"A little girl _told_ you where the trap door was?"

Hannah snorted quietly. Booth ignored her.

"Yes."

"How was she? What did she look like?"

Glancing at his mother, then at his sister, Jimmy replied:

"A bit younger than me. Maybe eight or nine. She had long brown hair and blue eyes. She said her name was Melanie."

Booth nodded.

"Did she tell you anything else?"

"No."

"Did you see her other than that one time?"

Jimmy nodded.

"I saw her a couple of times. I saw her that night."

"What night?"

"The night he killed the little girl who lived in the house. The night he pushed her off the roof."

"You saw him?"

Jimmy hesitated, casting another glance at his mother. Finally, he nodded slowly.

"She came to get me. It was still dark outside and I didn't see much. I saw _him_, on the roof, then I heard a thump and a loud crack. I got scared and I ran back through the trap door before he could see me."

"Jeremy, when you first arrived, were there human remains in your hideout?"

Hannah gasped loudly. Clarissa remained quiet.

"Yes."

"Did anybody come to the hideout while you were there?"

Jeremy shook his head.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

"Okay. That will be all for today."

Getting to his feet, he expected Hannah to do the same. But the woman seemed frozen in her seat, as though too shocked by her son's confession to even move. Nodding to both children, he turned around. He was about to walk out the small living room door when Jeremy's voice stopped him.

"You know, the little girl? I just think she's lonely."

Booth frowned before nodding and stepping out of the living room.

Half-way to his SUV, the front door of the house opened behind him.

"Agent Booth!"

Booth turned around to find Clarissa jogging down the stoned stairs and towards him.

"Thank you for bringing my brother back. It wasn't the same without him here."

"No problem. Just doing my job."

"Also, there's something else I thought you should know. There's a rumor going around town."

"A rumor?"

"Yes. About the murders. It's not really a rumor, it's more of a legend."

"A legend?"

Clarissa nodded.

"It's not really a secret what happened to those girls, Agent Booth. Everybody knows their story here in Winchester. But one day, the story changed. Just before the remains were found, I had heard the part of the legend you could say is a rumor."

"Which was?"

"That the girl's remains were still under the 53 Maple Street basement."

Booth frowned.

"Who did you hear that from?"

"Some guy at school who had heard it from someone else, who had heard it from someone else. I didn't really believe it because it had already passed through a few people at school who were known to tell lies. I was really freaked out when I found out that the rumor turned out to be true."

"That boy's name? What is it?"

Clarissa remained silent.

"Clarissa?"

He watched the teen take a deep breath.

"His name is William."

"Okay."

"William Robertson."

* * *

The light in the living room was on when Booth pulled in his driveway around six. The front door opened as he slammed the SUV door shut in a loud bang that echoed off the walls of his quiet neighborhood. 

"Hi Brina!" Booth said to the little girl who came running towards him.

"Hi Daddy!"

Picking up his daughter in his arms, he kissed her temple.

"Did you open the door all by yourself?"

"Yes." Brina replied.

"Are you sure?" Booth asked, knowing that his two-year-old daughter had been unable to open the door by herself. "So Lukas didn't open the door for you?"

"No." The child answered, shaking her hair, her blond ponytail swaying in time with her movement.

"Then why is Lukas standing at the door right now?"

Brina squealed loudly as Booth tickled her stomach. Setting the child down on the ground, he stepped inside the house.

"Hi Dad."

"Hey Buddy." Booth replied, ruffling his son's hair.

"Mom and Riley are in the living room."

Grabbing his daughter's hand, Booth walked to the living room.

He found his wife and his daughter sitting on the couch, each of them with a book in their hands.

"Well, what a pretty sight." Booth remarked, sarcastically.

Temperance looked up.

"You're home. How did it go?"

Booth sighed.

"It's a long story. Have you guys eaten?"

"No." Riley replied, closing her book. "We're staaarving."

"You're staaaarving? How many a's were there in that word, Temperance?"

"I don't know."

Booth chuckled.

"Okay. Who wants what for dinner?"

"Pizza!" Lukas.

"Chicken fingers!" Riley.

"Fish ticks!" Brina.

Booth looked down at his baby daughter, still holding his finger.

"You want fish ticks?"

The toddler nodded.

"Okay. Who's up for fish ticks?"

"I am." Lukas replied.

"Then fish ticks it is."


	22. Chapter 21: Breakthrough

Brina had been fed, potty-trained and dressed for at least fifteen minutes when Temperance stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her two-year-old daughter in her arms.

"Lukas! Riley! Let's go!" The mother shouted.

"Don't make my daughter deaf." Booth replied as he stepped up behind his wife and took his daughter.

Oblivious to her husband's comment, Temperance turned around.

"They're going to be late for school."

"So what? We'll just drive them."

"_We_?"

"Yes, _we_. We're their parents, we'll drive them together."

"In two separate cars?"

"Of course not. We're taking the cool car today."

"I doubt your FBI-issued SUV is considered cool, Booth."

"It is to them." Booth muttered in reply.

Footsteps were soon heard above their heads and, almost instantly, two brown heads appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Dad, tell Lukas to give my shoes back." Riley ordered.

"Well tell her to give me my book back."

"I didn't take your book."

"Well I didn't take your stupid shoes."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Guys."

Getting no response, Booth tried again.

"Guys! That is enough!"

The two children turned to their father, momentarily stunned.

"You're both late for school and your mother is near burn out waiting for you two."

"I am not." Temperance replied, offended.

"Lukas, you give your sister her shoes back and Riley, you go get your brother's book. I want the both of you down these stairs in a minute, am I clear?"

"Yes, Dad."

As their children turned around and headed back to their respective rooms, Temperance said:

"I am not near burn out waiting for them."

A smile twitched at Booth's lips.

"I know." He said before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "One thing is true though. Lukas does have your temper."

Temperance gaped.

"No he doesn't. I'm a very calm person. He has your quality of patience."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Throwing her his charm smile, Booth walked away.

* * *

He wished that some day, he could stop turning into that driveway. Simply being in proximity of that house made him feel edgy. At every move, he felt as though a dozen pair of eyes were watching him, sending deep shivers down his spine. His senses were immediately turned into over drive as he walked towards the front door, his eyes glancing around him as if in search of something. Of someone. He wondered if his partner could see how nervous this house made him feel and she felt the same. He doubted that he felt Melanie's presence the way he did. He doubted she would even believe it if she saw Melanie's ghost in front of her. She would immediately turn into scientific mode, using some kind of psychological talk as well, trying desperately to explain what was going on before her eyes, to prevent everything she knew about science to come crashing down around her. But he knew what he had seen. He had seen Melanie and he believed Jeremy when he said he did too. Melanie's soul was restless. She wanted closure and Booth was going to bring them to her. Next Wednesday was her dad's appeal. He would do everything in his power to bring that man the freedom he deserved.

His arm felt heavy as he lifted it to knock on the Robertson's door. As the knock echoed loudly in his ears, he once again felt the pair of eyes watching him. He turned to find his wife staring weirdly at him. She looked about to ask him something when the door in front of them opened.

Smiling politely at them, Lucy let them in. The house was cool compared to the outside world and Booth couldn't help but shiver.

"Sorry." Lucy said. "It seems the furnace broke down this morning. No matter how high I turn it up, it is still cold inside."

Lucy rearranged her house coat around herself.

"He's waiting for you in the living room."

Booth nodded before stepping past the woman and inside the living room.

William looked up at the sound of the visitors walking in and forced a smile. The anxiety he had felt as he had opened his eyes this morning came rushing back to him, hitting him in the stomach like a big punch. He knew Temperance and Booth as Riley's parents. He knew Temperance and Seeley. But today, seeing them as Agent Booth and Dr. Booth changed his perception of them.

"Hey Will, what's up?" Booth asked him, trying his best to stay chummy with the boy.

"Nothing much."

"I'll need to ask you a few questions, some of them you probably already answered."

"Then what's the point in asking them again?"

"Will." Lucy gasped, offended and surprised.

"It's okay, Lucy. You see Will, I'm getting old." Booth said as he sat down in an armchair near the window. "My memory isn't as good as it used to be."

A smile twitched at William's lips.

"I want you to tell me what happened on the night you found the bones in your basement."

William glanced briefly at his mother who nodded in approval.

"I was in my room trying to read. Riley and Mickey were in the other room and they wouldn't stop giggling. They were being annoying so I went to Mickey's room to tell them to be quiet. When Mackenzie refused to stop, I decided that maybe a scary story would shut them up."

"You didn't expect them to take you seriously."

"No. Riley maybe, no offence, but Mickey? She never believed a thing I said."

William felt his heart swell in pain as he thought of his sister. He forced back a couple of tears.

"It seems silly today, huh?" Booth asked, his tone softer.

William nodded.

"She told me to prove it, to prove to her that the bones were really in our basement. So I went down there. I didn't think I'd really find the bones, though."

"Will, who told you about the bones in your basement?"

"Everybody knows about them. It's a legend here."

"I didn't ask who knew about the bones, I asked you who told you."

William looked up at his mother.

"Tell them Will, if you know."

"Marshall told me."

Booth nodded.

"Marshall who?" He asked as he took off a small notepad and a pen.

"Marshall Kresic."

Booth nodded once more.

"Anything else you can tell me?"

William shook his head.

"Does the name Jeremy Lexington ring a bell to you?"

"Isn't he Clarissa's little brother who disappeared?"

"Yes. And you do know that we found him, right?"

"No, I didn't."

"They found him living under our basement." Lucy informed her son.

William's eyebrows shot upwards.

"You mean, where the bones were?"

"Yes."

William shuddered.

"Clarissa told me that you told her about the bones. Did you tell anyone else?"

"Like I said, everyone knows about the bones. There's been a rumor going around the school about this. No one knew for sure that it was true."

"And you hadn't thought of checking yourself before?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Well, thank you William for your cooperation. If you remember anything, just call me. Anything you say will help us catch your sister's killer."

The pre-teen nodded.

"So what do you think of his story?" Temperance asked after they had climbed in the SUV and shut the doors.

Putting the vehicle in reverse, Booth drove out of the driveway.

"I think that everything he said is plausible and that we should talk to this Marshall kid."

"Won't you need his parents' approval first?"

"Well shouldn't be too hard. I can be quite charming sometimes."

Booth chuckled at his comment, earning him a hard punch from his partner.

"Ow! What have I ever done to you?"

* * *

He didn't really like interviewing children in the depths and darkness of an FBI interview room but he had no choice. His partner had been called to the Jeffersonian for an emergency autopsy and he had had no choice but to drive her. He had spent the afternoon searching for Marshall's parents and had finally been able to contact his mother. A meeting had been scheduled for the late afternoon.

As he waited in his office, Booth mentally went over the case. Things were finally beginning to make sense. The thought of having a ghost committing murder was slowly being pushed towards the back of his mind, leaving a well-alive murderer on the loose. Excitement flowed through his veins. His instincts had never failed him before and Booth suspected that Marshall's story would be the one that would turn this investigation around.

Laura Joyce had disappeared during an earthquake and her autopsy had revealed that she had been strangled. No other signs of injuries had been found on the body, meaning the child hadn't struggled. This minor detail somewhat bothered him since the report had stated that Laura's mother had heard her daughter's screams of terror. Had Laura screamed because she was afraid of the earthquake or had it been because someone had been in her bedroom? Laura's mother had passed away recently and only her siblings remained. Her father had apparently moved out on them after Laura's disappearance. This is all he knew.

Melanie Pharatt had been tripped down the stairs and then strangled. Raine Bennett had been hit by a blunt object before the head after vanishing from her backyard. Zach and Monica were still trying to determine which blunt object could have caused her injuries but he still had a hard time believing a nine-year-old girl could disappear in broad daylight with no witness.

As for Hope, Booth could only assume that whoever had drowned the little girl in her rub had also taken her out of her house and into that trapdoor before dumping her body in that cold room under the basement. No prints on the doorknob other than Hope's parents' proved the murderer had worn latex gloves but how the man had had the time to take the little girl's body, to bring her outside before Hope's mother came back upstairs was still a mystery.

The elevators chimed open and something told Booth his visitors had arrived. He looked up to find a small red-haired woman and a tall and skinny black-haired boy walking towards his office, a security guard guiding the way. Booth stood up behind his desk and nodded politely at his visitors.

"Marshall?"

The young boy nodded.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

* * *

"She's asleep." Booth announced as he walked in his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he collapsed on the bed.

"I think that's a new record." Temperance said, her eyes never leaving her book. "How long this time?"

"Twenty minutes."

"It's weird how she never wants to go to bed."

"She must have gotten that from you." Booth replied as he snatched the book from his wife's hands.

"Hey!"

Extending her arms, she tried to reach for her book without luck. Booth simply chuckled before closing the novel and throwing it on the floor. Then, flipping on his stomach, he smiled triumphantly at her.

"No more reading for tonight."

"That's not fair."

"Yeah well, Bones, life's not fair."

Giving her a quick kiss, he sat up against the wall.

"You never told me about your interview today. You said that you'd tell me when we got home but then you didn't."

"My interview with the Marshall boy?"

Temperance nodded.

"Apparently, he heard it from his older brother but he has no idea how his brother got the story. According to the kids, the 53 Maple Street case is a legend here. Everybody knows about it but nobody knows who did it."

"Do you think it's possible the murderer lives among us?"

"You mean with the living? Yes."

"That's not quite what I meant."

Booth chuckled.

"I know what you meant, Bones. I was just kidding. Anyway, Marshall told me that about seven or eight years ago, his brother Rowan told him about the murders. He said that he knew where the bodies were and how Hope Lawson had died."

"But isn't Marshall William's age? If he is, that would have made him five or six years old when his brother told him that. How can you be sure it's a legitimate story?"

"I thought the same thing too when Marshall started talking. I wondered if maybe Marshall wasn't just repeating what he had heard on the street but for some reason, I believe his story."

"Why is that?"

"Marshall said that soon after his brother moved to California to live with his uncle."

"So?"

"So... his mother told me that she had noticed a change in her son. She said that Rowan, who had been a very happy kid, had suddenly turned calm and serious. He also started having trouble sleeping and his grades at school went downhill. Near the end, before Rowan took off, she noticed that he was jumpy. Every time the phone or the doorbell rang, Rowan would be startled. He left before she could question him about his weird behavior."

"Does Marshall remember this?"

Booth shook his head.

"You're thinking that Rowan might have known the killer personally?"

"It's possible."

"But how?"

"There are a lot of possibilities, Bones. Rowan is taking a walk, sees the murderer with Hope Lawson, the murderers sees him and threatens him to kill him if he talks. Maybe the murderer is somehow related to Rowan's family. Rowan catches a conversation between the murderer and another person. The list goes on. Right now I'm trying to locate Rowan. Marshall's mother gave me her brother's phone number and I'll try to get her son to talk to me. We'll see where that leads."

"All the evidence is ready for David Pharatt's appeal Wednesday."

"What time is it at?"

"Ten."

Booth nodded.

"Can I have my book back now?"

Chuckling, Booth reached over the side of the bed and picked up the abandoned book.


	23. Chapter 22: Baby In Court

**A/N: Sorry I've taken ages to post this chapter but I had a lot of trouble writing it. Hope you enjoy it and that it was worth the wait.**

* * *

Briefing had gone well into the night. A last-minute meeting had been called by David Pharatt's lawyer in order to do some tweaking to a plan that was, according to Booth, already perfect. By the time the tweaking had been done, the sun had long set and the moon had already climbed as high as it would go for that night. It was in yawns that everyone bid each other good night and climbed into their vehicle.

The house had been quiet when Temperance and Booth had set foot inside. The only light had come from a series of blue-colored flashes made by the television in the living room, left turned on by the babysitter asleep on the couch. Temperance had awoken her while Booth had waited in the entrance to drive the young teen home. By the time he had come back, the clock had shown one o'clock.

"There's just no way..."

The annoying voice of the latest number-one singer rose the couple from their short sleep. Groaning in unison, they both turned simultaneously towards the inside of the bed and snuggled back against their pillows.

"We have to get up." Temperance mumbled, sleepily.

"Five more minutes." Booth replied, reaching over to his wife and pulling her closer to him.

Temperance sighed happily as she let herself sink back into the comfortable realm of sleep, where no ghosts and no murders could reach her.

The sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway reached her ears telling her Lukas was already up and on his way to the bathroom. Untangling herself from Booth's embrace, she sat up in her bed and yawned.

"I'll make breakfast. You get your daughters up." She told him before swinging her legs over the side of the bed and getting up.

She heard a mumble coming from behind her as she walked towards the hallway but decided to ignore it. Sleepily, she made her way to the kitchen.

The sun bathed most of the room when Temperance walked in, making her squint before her eyes slowly adjusted to the new amount of light. Mechanically, she went to the cupboards and began taking out everything she would need to make breakfast. Cereals for Lukas, bread and raspberry jam for Riley. Cinnamon and apple oatmeal for Brina, bagels and coffee for her and Booth. Same old thing. And as Temperance took out plates and bowls from the cupboard beside the sink, she found herself wondering, just like she did every morning, just when her life had taken such a monotone routine.

She was pulling up Brina's high chair to the table when Lukas walked in the kitchen.

"Good morning Sweetie." Temperance said, looking up at her son.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of her nine-year-old son, hair criss-crossed on the top of his head.

Lukas nodded sleepily before sitting down at his usual spot and grabbing the box of cereal which stood in front of him.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. What time did you get home last night?"

"Midnight." Temperance replied as she sat down across from her son. "Are your sisters up?"

Lukas simply shrugged.

"How about your dad?"

"I don't know."

Temperance frowned and sighed impatiently. Lukas looked up briefly at his mother before looking back down at the cereal box. Even though he had played the games on the box several times, it was better to do them once again than having to listen to his mother complain that they were going to be late again.

Temperance had been about to get up for the third time when Riley finally stepped into the room, her dark brown eyes thick with sleep.

"Hey Rye."

"Hi mom." Riley simply yawned before sitting down beside her twin brother. "Dad said he'll be right down with Bree."

Temperance nodded as she got up and stepped over on the other side of the counter. She was putting two slices of bread in the toaster when heavy footsteps in the stairs told her Booth was on his way down. She looked up in time to find him walking in the kitchen.

"We have a problem."

* * *

"What do you mean sick?"

Booth stared intently at his wife, Brina still asleep in his arms.

There was a short silence during which Temperance's interlocutor must have been explaining what was wrong. The frown on his wife's features only deepened.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. No, no, it's okay. You stay home and rest."

Then, looking over at her husband, she added:

"We'll figure something out. Take care, Nancy."

On that, she hung up.

"Well, we have no nanny today. Nancy is sick, she won't be able to come over. What are we going to do?"

"We can just bring her." Booth replied as he glanced down at his asleep daughter in his arms.

Reaching over, Temperance touched her daughter's forehead. Warm.

"We can't bring her to court with us, Booth."

"Why not? We'll take turns watching over her. We'll just sit out in the hall and wait for the other to come back."

"How is that going to work?"

"Well since you testify first, I can take the first shift. I'll wait just outside the courtroom while you testify and then when you're done, meet me outside and we'll switch."

Temperance frowned, still skeptic.

"Trust me. It'll work out. Then when we're done, you can go to the Jeffersonian and I'll come back here with her."

"Booth, I..."

"Trust me."

One look into his dark brown eyes and Temperance knew she would agree to his crazy plan. Her gaze shifted to her youngest daughter and she immediately felt her throat constrict. Brina had never been sick before. Sure, she had had her share of ear infections as a baby but that had been the extent of it.

Looking back up at her husband, who was staring at her worriedly, she forced a smile.

"Okay."

* * *

Everyone had gathered in front of the courtroom and only David Pharatt was missing from that group when the Booths arrived, sick daughter at their side. All eyes turned to them and eyebrows shot upwards at the sight of the special agent, diaper bag on the shoulder and daughter in his arm.

"A baby?" Jason Triggs asked, surprised.

His eyes immediately shifted from the asleep toddler to the diaper bag then finally to Booth.

"This is our daughter Brina. She's sick and so is her nanny." Booth began to explain. "We couldn't find another babysitter. We had no choice but to bring her along."

Triggs nodded, unsure of what else to say. He himself had no children of his own and, if truth be told, he didn't want any. Gazing one more time at the blond head resting on her father's shoulder, he turned back to the group.

"The appeal starts in ten minutes. We better get ready."

Everyone agreed.

As the group began stepping inside the courtroom, Booth turned to his wife.

"Meet me outside as soon as you can."

Temperance opened her mouth to reply but one look from Booth told her she was worrying for nothing. Nodding, she gave him a quick kiss before heading off to the courtroom. Momentarily puzzled as to why his wife had kissed him in public and in a professional environment, he couldn't help the smile that stretched on his face as he headed to a bench at the far end of the entrance.

Sitting down, he set the diaper bag beside him. Brina was still in his arms and by her steady breathing, he could tell she was asleep. Strengthening his hold on her, he leaned his head back slowly until he felt it hit the cold marble wall behind him. The lack of sleep was finally getting to him but he knew he couldn't fall asleep. Now wasn't the time. He needed to be alert. He wasn't scared of Jason Triggs or his colleague Rebecca but he certainly needed to stay on his toes.

It had been obvious to him from the start that Pharatt had been innocent. There had been something in that man's eyes that had told him someone in the system hadn't done their job properly, whether it had been the cops involved in the investigation, Pharatt's lawyers or simply the jury itself. Pharatt's eyes had told a different story. Booth had immediately seen himself in them, seen himself in the man's position. From the moment he had seen the sadness and the slight dementia in the gray orbs of his, he had known. He had known an innocent man had been incarcerated.

He knew Judge Lenoy. He knew she would hear the man out before making the slightest decision. She was the best judge to have sat in that chair in ages, Booth believed. And today, he had to admit, coming across good judges was something difficult to do.

The sound of high heels echoed off the walls somewhere in the building. If Booth simply listened to the noise surrounding him, he wouldn't succumb to his tired body. He was getting too old for this. As much as he loved the action of working on the field, his body just wasn't able to hold up. He had four kids to take care of. Parker had recently turned sixteen and along had come a phase he had never gone through just yet: rebellion. He wasn't afraid that his son would turn into a criminal but hearing him talk back to his mother and now to him, he couldn't believe this tall teenager had once been the sweet five-year-old blond boy he had presented to Temperance so many years ago. Even Riley was beginning to be scared of him and Lukas had drifted apart from his older brother as well. It saddened him to see all of this unravel before his eyes and he just hoped that things would turn out okay in the end.

He felt Brina move in his grasp, probably trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep.

He knew Temperance was worried about her daughter. She didn't say anything but her eyes spoke volumes. There was no doubt in his mind that Febril had had a deep impact on her. They hadn't really talked about it since then but knowing her the way he did, he knew that she had been worried sick and had been scared of losing them both. She hadn't, of course, and they even had a beautiful daughter out of this crazy period in their life but she probably felt as though their death still hung above her, that at any second now, it could take one of them from her. She had been abandoned several times in her life and even though Booth had promised never to do the same thing, he wasn't as sure anymore if he would have the possibility to keep that promise.

What he did know is that Brina didn't have Febril. There hadn't been any real cases in the past two years and after Riley's recovery and his own, things had gone uphill for several others. More than half of the cases reported in the city of Washington and its surroundings had turned out for the best and the patients had recovered. Since then, no one had heard from this strange disease again and most, other than the families of the victims, had forgotten all about it. And, Booth had to admit, he couldn't blame them.

In spite of everything that had happened to them since they had first become a family, he couldn't say he wasn't happy with the way things had turned out. Having the twins had been a real challenge at first, especially when Riley had been brought home. He had quickly realized that, while taking care of one baby was manageable, taking care of two at the same time was a real challenge.

Then there had been the learning disabilities. Booth had seen right away that Lukas was going to be the smart one out of the two. The way his brain processed information reminded Booth of his wife. Yet, despite his amazing intelligence, Lukas wasn't much into books or science as Booth thought he was going to be. There had been a phase during which science had been a passion for his son but that phase was long gone and had been replaced by playing outside with his friends, climbing trees and playing in the dirt.

Riley, on the other end, had slowed down. She had been the first one to walk, the first to say Mama (which quickly turned into Mommy) and the first to have teeth. But then three years old had come around and all progress had stopped. It had been like what she was now learning was too complex for her brain to process. A trip to a psychologist had told them pretty much what the doctors had feared three years earlier; that because of her lack of oxygen, chances were she was going to have learning disabilities.

Hearing that had of course troubled him but now, six years later, Booth wondered if maybe they hadn't overreacted. The second Riley had been taken out of her special class, she had done a lot of progress. Sure, she still had troubled processing what she was learning. As one of the school psychologist had explained to them:

"It's like there is a big traffic jam inside your daughter's head. All the information is lined-up bumper to bumper and is waiting impatiently to come through."

As much as he hadn't like that description back then and had had the urge to punch the doctor in the face, Booth couldn't deny that it was probably what was going on inside his daughter's mind. But today, at nine years old, she was able to follow in a regular class.

Of all the things that had happened to them, the one thing he still couldn't believe was that, on the night he proposed, Temperance had said yes.

There had been no huge set-up. The question had simply fallen from his lips one night while he was holding her close, the warmth of her body heating up his own on that cold December night. She had said yes and he had felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. His heart had momentarily stopped beating and he remembered looking down at him to see if she was teasing him. But her face had been serious, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight and Booth knew she had meant her answer.

Sure life hadn't been easy for them but he doubted that every marriage worked as well as theirs. At first, he had been scared that the relationship they had once had would be changed forever, that they would lose the strange connection that seemed to link them together from day one. Of course, it had changed but, to him, it had changed for the best. Even after all these years, they were still the best friends in the world and deeply in love. He smiled at the thought that his children would grow up in a loving home and not one torn by hate and arguments.

A door opened somewhere and more footsteps echoed off the marble walls. He opened his eyes to find his wife walking towards him. He must have dozed off for he couldn't remember how long it had been since she had walked into the courtroom.

"It's your turn." She told him.

Booth nodded. Setting his daughter on the bench, he got up. Then, as out of the blue as she had done herself, Booth kissed her deeply before walking away.

Turning around, Temperance watched him walk away.

* * *

There was a good chance David Pharatt would walk away a free man by the end of the day. Now that she had testified and heard the others do the same, she was positively sure. It seemed more than unfair that David Pharatt would have to go back to his prison cell tonight, especially after all the new evidence that had been found. But she was confident. They made a great team and, together, they would set Pharatt free.

Temperance felt her daughter wiggle beside her. Gazing down at her child, she found the toddler staring right back at her.

"Mommy, thirsty."

"You're thirsty?"

Rubbing her eye with her fist, Brina nodded.

Pulling the diaper bag to her, Temperance reached inside for her daughter's cup, which had been filled with water before they had left.

Sitting up, Brina grabbed the cup from her mother's hands and immediately began sucking gingerly on the beak. Her brown eyes met her mother's blue ones and Temperance couldn't help the strong feeling of love she instantly felt.

Even after all these years, it still scared her. It scared her to know how much she loved her children and how devastated she would be if something ought to happen to them. She only had to think to what had happened to Melanie Pharatt, or even only to Mickey, to become scared that something similar could happen to her children.

The state of the world today had been one of the reasons she hadn't wanted children in the first place. To raise something so pure and innocent in a world torn by hatred, violence and death was something she just couldn't conceive. That, mixed with her fear of being a horrible mother, had convinced her that not having children, despite what the world would think, was a better choice.

So much had changed since she had made that choice that she could hardly believe she had taken such a decision in the first place. Not only had she had three children, but she had gotten married, something she had sworn she would never do since she couldn't see the utility. So many marriages ended up in divorce after only two or three years, she just couldn't understand why people got married in the first place.

She wasn't quite sure why she had said yes to Booth either when he had proposed. So many things had changed since they had first met. She had changed, they had changed. They had grown up in some way, transformed in something they hadn't been before 'them'. They had created some sort of a world for them where they completed each other and it had just made sense for her to say yes, no matter what her opinions on marriage had been back then. After years of fighting against an inner demon who had been scared of by abandoned, she had finally learned to let go of that fear and live. Maybe that had been the reason she had said yes. She had known that Booth would never leave her voluntarily, that he would always be there for her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Booth was the only one who could calm the demon inside of her. And as much as she hated psychology, she knew this was the only way to describe how she felt.

She loved her husband and she loved her kids. They formed a rare kind of family, a kind that had almost completely disappeared. Nine years a couple and close to five years of marriage later and they were still together and happily in love.

She felt Brina tug at her sleeve and she looked down to find the toddler lifting her cup towards her.

"All done."

Smiling at her daughter, she gently took the cup from her hands and put back in the diaper bag.

She expected her daughter to curl up on the bench once more and go back to sleep but, to her surprise, Brina climbed on her lap and snuggled comfortably against her. Momentarily stunned, it took Temperance a few seconds before wrapping her arms around her daughter and pulling her even closer. She heard her daughter sigh contentedly before bringing her thumb in her mouth and slowly closing her eyes.

Temperance's heart beat rapidly in her chest. It had been ages since one of her children had snuggled against her. She couldn't even remember the last time Riley or Lukas had done something similar. They always went to their father, who they probably saw as the 'emotional' parent.

It had always been like that. Comfort had always been sought in their father while their accomplishment, especially in school, had always been told to their mother. Hugs and kisses had always been an awkward interaction between her and her children. Booth had told her numerous times that the twins probably felt that and that was why they always went to him but she wanted so much to be the mother she wished she could be.

She had had the best mother. Christine (despite knowing her mother's real name, she would always remember her mother as Christine the bookkeeper) had always been there for her, consoled her when she cried, sing to her when she couldn't fall asleep at night and comforted her when she was scared. She showered her with hugs and kisses until Temperance would order to her to stop, mortified in embarrassment at such a public display of affection. Her mother had always supported her in everything she had done. She had been the best mother... until she had taken off.

She wanted to be like that. She wanted to be like Christine had been with her but as much as she wanted it, she just didn't feel capable of it. Every hug seemed awkward, every kiss felt forced. She loved them, but she was incapable of showing them. She was incapable of being like her mother. There was something stopping her, preventing her from being what she thought was a good mother, a real mother.

Brina's breathing had steadied and Temperance knew she was sleeping. Asleep like this in her arms, thumb in her mouth, Brina looked vulnerable and, instinctively, Temperance strengthened the hold she had on her and, resting her chin on her daughter's head, she quietly hummed the song her mother had often sang to her as a child.

* * *

Her eyes shot open and she jumped, startled by all the commotion. She looked down at Brina who was still asleep in her arms before bringing her eyes up to find Booth walking quickly towards her.

In an instant, she was on her feet, Brina still in her arms.

"And?" She asked, her heart racing madly.

"Innocent."

"What?"

"He's free!"

A smile stretched across her face and she turned her gaze from her husband to look for the man who had recently been set free. She found him shaking hands with his lawyer.

Handing her daughter to Booth, she quickly made her way to the freed prisoner.

"Thank you, Dr. Booth." David Pharatt said, grabbing the woman's hand. "Thank you for everything you have done for us."

"I only did my job, Mr. Pharatt."

"Well keep up your good work and I hope you find the son of a bitch who killed my daughter."

Temperance forced a smile.

"I'll do my best."

"You and Agent Booth do some great work together. You've already managed to prove that I didn't push my daughter down those stairs. I have faith in you, Dr. Booth. I know without a doubt that you will find my daughter's killer and put a rest once and for all to those murders."

Temperance nodded politely. She turned to find Booth standing beside her.

"Who is that?" Pharatt asked, turning to Brina.

"Our daughter, Brina." Booth replied.

Pharatt nodded.

"Brina. It's Gaelic for protector, isn't it?"

Temperance frowned.

"How do you know that?"

"Brina was the name of my deceased sister as well as Melanie's middle name."

Temperance simply nodded.

"What are you going to do now that you are free?"

"The prison has arranged to find me an apartment but I think the first I'm going to do is get my haircut."

Booth and Temperance chuckled.

"I was planning on visiting Melanie's grave but I guess that will have to wait."

"The bones will be reburied once the investigation is over."

"I know. Thank you again, for everything you had done. I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Pharatt." Booth replied.

Nodding one more time to the couple, Pharatt walked away.

"Ready to go back to work?" Booth asked his wife.

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

* * *

The music from his cellphone reached his ears the second his foot touched the last step. Barging into the living room, he picked it up and was about to answer when the gadget fell quiet. The words 1 Missed appeared on the small screen. He waited, in case the caller had decided to leave his a message. Setting down the cellphone on the coffee table where it had laid only a few seconds earlier, he went to the kitchen to get something to eat.

As he walked in the kitchen, a weird feeling washed through him and he felt a shiver run down his spine. Suddenly, the home phone on the counter seemed to be staring intently at him, as though trying to send him a message.

Before he knew what was happening, Booth found himself being pushed towards his phone and dialing his work number. He listened to the rings in mild anxiety. When he heard his voice telling him to leave a message, he typed in his password.

"You have one message." The robotic voice told him.

Booth nodded.

There was a short silence before a man's voice came on.

"Agent Booth, my name is Rowan Kresic. I heard you were working on the 53 Maple Street case. I might have some information for you."

Booth pressed the receiver closer to his ear, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

"I'll talk to you but you'll need to come down to California. I can't go back to Virginia. He'll know. It's the only way I'll talk. Call me when you land."

And before Booth even had the chance to process what the young man had just said, Booth heard the click telling him Rowan had hung up.


	24. Chapter 23: Rowan Kresic

Thanks to a friend in a travel agency, Booth didn't have to wait long for a flight from Washington to Los Angeles. On this beautiful Saturday morning, when he should have been bringing Riley to her soccer practice and Lukas to his swimming lessons, he instead left behind his wife and children for a two-day trip on the western coast.

Rowan's voice had haunted him for the past couple of days and he was glad that he would finally be able to meet the young man. There had been something in his voice, almost like an urgency to it, mixed with a fear of getting caught. Whatever it had been, it had troubled Booth deeply, making him anxious to finally meet the young man. The closer the plane got to the west coast, the more anxious he grew. Would this trip provide him with the name of the murderer? Had Rowan seen something he shouldn't have back then, that had made him move so far away?

He had contacted the man just as Rowan had asked but the 24-year-old man had been evasive. Not answering Booth's questions, he had simply told him to look out for a tall, black-haired man, with blue eyes and glasses. Then, before Booth had been able to say anything else, Rowan had hung up.

The wheels of the plane finally hit the tarmac and soon Booth found himself following a large crowd of people down the tunnel leading inside the crowded airport. His height gave him an advantage and he was soon able to spot the black-haired man described. As he walked towards him, the strange slowly turned to him. His face was serious and so was his tone.

"Agent Booth?"

"Yeah." Booth replied.

"Follow me."

They walked in silence through the airport, collecting Booth's luggage on the way, then out the building, and through a large parking lot. As he followed the stranger, Booth couldn't help but wonder who the man was and where he was bringing him. He was definetely too old to be Rowan. Was he perhaps his uncle? As they sat down in the car, Booth was determined to found out who the man was.

He began making small-talk but his attempt at a conversation fell flat. The stranger simply nodded occasionally to Booth's comments and replied in a word or two.

"How do you know Rowan?"

For the first time since they had climbed into the car, the stranger turned to him.

"Is this part of a formal interview?"

Booth frowned, finding the man's question a bit odd.

"If you want it to be."

"I'm his uncle. My name is Jordan."

"As I understood, you're Rowan's mother's brother?"

"Yes. Mariah is my older sister."

"Do you have any children yourself?"

"A boy I never see. He must be close to twenty years old today. I haven't seen or heard from him in ten years."

Booth nodded.

"Are you married?"

"Yep. It'll be fifteen years in August."

"And what's your wife's name?"

"Angela. She's the sweetest woman in the world. You'll see. Are you married, Agent Booth?"

"Yes. Five years last March."

"Children?"

"Four. I have a sixteen-year-old, nine-year-old twins and a two-year-old daughter."

Jordan nodded.

"You see your kids?"

"Every day of the week, except for my oldest whom I see every week-end."

Booth forced himself not to add that _seeing_ Parker every week-end wasn't entirely the truth since his son only dropped by every couple of hours, as if to show that he was still alive.

"You're a lucky man, Agent Booth. Not a lot of men see their children as often as you do these days. The world has changed immensely in the last couple of years. I think you and your wife form a rare type of family."

"You're right and I consider myself very lucky."

Jordan turned left on a quieter street.

"We're almost there." The man said as he stopped at a stop sign.

Two little girls slowly crossed the street, one of them probably Riley's age.

"How old was Rowan when he came to live with you?"

Jordan frowned, as though searching through his memory to remember when his nephew had come live with them. There was a short silence before the man finally answered.

"Sixteen, maybe seventeen."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Seven years, maybe. Eight?"

"And did Rowan ever mentioned why he came to live with you?"

Jordan shook his head.

"He never gave you a reason? You never questioned his motive?"

Slowing down, Jordan turned into the driveway of a small, salmon-coloured house. Turning off the ignition, he turned to the agent sitting beside him.

"Rowan arrived on my doorstep unannounced. I was surprised to see him there. My sister didn't even know where he had gone, I called her to tell her Rowan was here with me. The only thing she told me was that the boy was acting weird. He had dropped out of school after learning he had failed most of his classes that year and it took me two years to get him back into school. He's finally doing better. We never talked about why he had come here and I hope that you are not going to disturb him in any way. Since your call, he's been acting really funny."

"Funny how?"

"He's nervous. He jumps every time you say his name. He's clumsier than I've ever seen him, he barely goes out. I don't dare calling my sister and asking her why he's acting that way. All I know is that there is something troubling him."

Booth nodded. A funny feeling formed at the pit of his stomach and, even as he followed Jordan inside the house, he wasn't able to shake it off.

"Rowan?" Jordan called out.

Footsteps coming from the back of the house reached their ears. Soon, a tall and buffed young man appeared down the hallway. With his dark blond hair and brown eyes, he formed an older version of his younger brother Marshall.

"Agent Booth?"

_Definitely not like his brother._ Booth thought as he heard Rowan's lower and graver voice.

"Rowan?"

The young man nodded.

Jordan glanced at both men before stepping away from them.

Rowan waited until his uncle had disappeared in the basement before speaking once again.

"Follow me."

And so Booth followed the tall young man down the corridor, passing the living room and what seemed like a small study. Rowan led him to the dining room where the young man closed the french doors behind them. After offering Booth something to drink, which he politely declined, Rowan sat down at the table.

"It's a lovely house." Booth commented, as he examined the small room.

"We moved here about five years ago. The other house was much too small for the three of us and I didn't even have my own room."

"Have you been living with your uncle for a long time?" Booth asked, knowing perfectly well the answer.

"It'll be eight years in July."

"And how old were you when you came to live here?"

"Sixteen." Rowan replied in a strangled voice.

"What made you move across the country?"

Rowan brought his gaze down to his hands. Booth waited, silently.

"I saw... things I wasn't supposed to see." Rowan finally answered after a few seconds of silence.

"What kind of things?"

Rowan gulped. His eyes were still fixed on his hands.

"Your mother said that before you took off, you had changed drastically. She mentioned your low grades, your constant state of fear. What were you afraid of?"

Rowan looked after a couple seconds of silence.

"He knew that I knew, that I had really seen him. I was afraid he would come after me."

"Who?"

"Little Hope's killer."

"You _know _who he is?"

Rowan didn't answer.

"Rowan?"

The man nodded slowly.

"Can you give me a name?"

Silence. Booth, who had leaned forward at Rowan's reply, leaned back against his chair and waited. He was in no rush to get anywhere and, thus, had all his time.

"Okay. How about you tell me what you've seen?"

Rowan glanced over at the door, as though hoping to see someone in the kitchen that would give him a reason to leave the agent in the dinning room for a few more minutes. Seeing no one, he turned back to the agent.

"I saw him with her."

"With who?"

"Hope Lawson. I saw him bringing her body down that trapdoor. She was naked. He didn't even bother to wrap her in a towel." Rowan replied, his face contorted in disgust.

"The report stated that there were no witnesses."

"I never told the police what I saw." Rowan replied, lowering his eyes like a child who had been caught doing something wrong.

Booth nodded slowly.

"Why not?"

"I was scared." Rowan muttered.

"There was another victim after Hope. Last month, a little girl named Mackenzie Robertson died in that house."

"How?"

"She was pushed off the roof after being drugged. If you would have told the police back then what you are telling me now, you could have saved a life."

He knew that it was somewhat heartless of him to say something like that but he had no choice. Rowan had the name of a suspect that would cause a major breakthrough in the case, a case that had been going on for over thirty years. Five little girls had died. It was finally time to give those girls the justice they deserved and Booth was determined to make Rowan talk.

"You don't know, Agent Booth. He's crazy."

Rowan was now looking up at him, his eyes opened wide in fear.

"How is he crazy?"

Booth remained calm. It was obvious that Rowan was quite agitated.

"He's mental. He goes nuts at times and..."

The man stopped in mid-sentence.

"You seem to know him very well."

"Everyone knows him, Agent Booth. Everyone."

Booth's heart skipped a beat. Everyone _knew_ him?

"He lives in Winchester?"

Rowan nodded.

"What's his name?"

The man shook his head vehemently.

"I can't."

Booth sighed.

"Okay Rowan, listen up. Something happened to you back in Virginia that has troubled you. I need to know what happened. It's the only way you can free yourself from the world of fear you currently live in."

Booth paused.

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Rowan looked up at him, his brown eyes full of fear. After a few seconds of silence, the young man took a deep breath.

"I was coming home from a friend's house. He lived about three doors down from the Lawsons' home. It was maybe eight o'clock. I saw a man hiding behind a tree in the Lawsons' yard. I watched him make his way slowly to the house. I was suspicious so I began following him. I reached the back of the yard in time to see him disappear through a back door. I grabbed my cellphone to call the police but my battery was dead. I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to go knock on the Lawsons' door to tell them I'd seen someone walk in their house but I was too scared. So I waited.

I don't know how long I stayed there, just waiting. The sun set and by the time he came out, it was dark. It wasn't dark enough for me not to see anything. I had heard of the other murders and I knew immediately what had happened when I saw him.

I was hiding behind some trees on the edge of the woods on the yard. I saw her first. He was carrying her like a baby. Her head was resting on his shoulder, it looked like she was just asleep. She was naked and I knew he had probably taken her from her bath because her hair was still wet.

I looked up to find him looking at me. I immediately hid behind a large tree but I knew it was too late. I expected him to come near me but he didn't. Instead, he went down that trapdoor. And before he had the chance to come back up, I took off running."

Rowan stopped, breathless. Booth could see the young man's body trembling.

"Did anything else happen?"

"He began following me. He somehow got hold of my cellphone and he would call me from payphones to threaten me if I talked. I would see him everywhere I went."

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"Agent Booth. A man who is crazy enough to drown a nine-year-old girl in her tub is crazy enough to go after a sixteen-year-old boy who has somewhat witnessed the murder."

"How did he know who you were?"

"As I said, Agent Booth, everybody knows him. You probably know him too."

Another weird feeling spread through his body.

"I need a name, Rowan."

"Give me a paper and a pen."

Booth took out a small notepad from his pocket and handed the young man a pen. He watched in mild anxiety as Rowan scribbled a name onto the paper. Then, as Rowan slowly turned the paper towards him, Booth's heart momentarily stopped beating.

_Everyone knows him._

Indeed, everyone knew him. Even Booth.


	25. Chapter 24: Dr Symmes

**A/N: By popular demand, here is a fast update (the fastest I have ever done for this story!). Hope you like it. It was pretty fun to write.**

* * *

The goosebumps hadn't disappeared even when Booth had set foot back into his home the following day. The name of their first suspect haunted him, sent chills down his spine every time he thought of when he had last seen the man. He hadn't known. He doesn't think anybody had known.

He had called Temperance the second he had been out of Jordan's home. Despite her relatively calm nature, she had gasped loudly and had asked if he was joking. He hadn't been, of course, but he wished he had. He just couldn't believe it. A man with such an important job a child killer? Something quite didn't add up. A quick search had turned up nothing. The man had a virgin file. No illegal activities had been recorded, he had never been arrested and hadn't even gotten a speeding ticket. The man was a perfect citizen. Something wasn't logic here.

He had pushed the images at the back of his mind during the flight (never quite getting rid of the goosebumps) but now that he was back in DC, the images poured from his subconscious like a waterfall and he wasn't able to stop them. The murderer, a doctor?

He paced back and forth in the living room, under the careful eye of his wife.

"Booth, would you stop walking back and forth? You're making me dizzy."

"Then don't look at me."

Temperance sighed.

"You're worrying for nothing, Booth. The man is working today, the nurse told you. You won't get much out of him at the hospital. It's just better to sit and wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Wait until he comes back home. Tomorrow, you can go talk to him. There's no rush. The man only kills every eight years."

Booth glared at her.

"That's not funny, Bones, just so you know."

"It wasn't a joke."

Booth stopped and turned to his wife. The look she gave him made him sigh and sit back down on the couch he had recently vacated to pace.

"I just can't believe it. _Him_, a killer? We trusted that man, Bones."

"A lot of people trusted him, Booth."

"I never would have thought. He didn't look like a killer."

"You don't look like a killer, Booth, but you've killed over fifty people."

"_Forty-nine_, Bones. I killed forty-nine people. And it's not like it's something I'm proud of. I was just doing my job. I was trained to kill, Bones. But that man? He isn't trained to kill, he's trained to save. He wasn't doing his job."

Temperance remained quiet.

"Why those girls in particular? And why every eight years? He didn't abuse any of them, he just... _killed_ them. According to Rowan Kresic, he didn't even bother wrapping Hope Lawson in a towel after taking her out of her bath."

"Booth."

"I can't believe we trusted him."

Outside, a car door slammed shut. Temperance looked out the window, alarmed, before turning to her husband.

"Don't say a word about the case in front of the kids, Booth. We can't let them know what we found out, especially not Riley."

Booth nodded. A couple of seconds later, the front door opened and two excited twins came into the house, talking rapidly.

* * *

He had spent the entire night tossing and turning in his bed, too excited to sleep. The night simply seemed to drag on when finally the radio clock turned on and pulled Booth from the light sleep that had finally claimed in.

In an instant, he had been out of his bed. Showering and eating breakfast at the speed of light, he had been out the door before his wife and children had finished their own breakfast. He knew he couldn't very well talk to the doctor at six in the morning but there were a few things he wanted to go over at the office before he went over to the doctor's home for a quick visit.

So many information had been gathered that it was almost impossible for him to remember everything. Not only had the victims been killed in different ways, they had also been killed in different years. The pattern was not typical of a serial killer but he doubted Symmes was an ordinary serial killer.

Minutes turned into hours. Around two, Booth decided that the doctor had probably slept enough and that it was now time to pay him a small visit. Gathering his things, he left a note to his new assistant telling him he would be gone for the day before stepping inside the elevator then walking out into the warm May sun.

He could hardly believe that five weeks had gone by since Riley has first found the bones in the Robertsons' home. The end of May was nearing quickly and so was the end of the school year. In a bit more than a month, he would be sending both his twins to a summer camp upstate. Temperance had been against it at first, of course, claiming they were too young for that sort of thing but he had rapidly changed her mind by saying she could pick the camp. Much to his surprise, she hadn't picked an archaeological camp (or any science camp for that matter) and he had let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. At least his kids would have fun this summer and it would give them a month to relax.

The traffic wasn't half bad and Booth was able to reach Winchester in a bit more than an hour. He still couldn't believe how far from Washington they worked. Back when they had moved there, things had seemed okay. Booth had taken a couple months off to take care of Brina while Temperance went back to work and they had switched afterwards. But the commute was tiresome and, to get home at a decent time, he needed to leave the Bureau at three (at the latest). As he left the highway, Booth made a mental note to talk about it with his wife that night.

The doctor lived near his own house which made him shiver. To know that he had lived so close to them and not even knowing it sent chills down his spine. As he got out of the SUV and slammed the door, Booth examined the neighbouring houses and wondered how many of them knew what their neighbor, their well-respected neighbor, had done.

Flowers had been planted on both side of the stone steps and a gigantic garden had recently come to life in the front yard. Booth rang the bell and waited. He had to admit, the doctor certainly had taste. His house and his garden were well-groomed and almost gave the yard a movie-like look. Booth chuckled bitterly as he thought of how ironic that a man who could afford to have such a beautiful place could also have a mind so twisted as to kill children.

The door opened to reveal a maid. Smiling politely at the young woman, Booth introduced himself and flashed his badge. The smile on the woman's voice faded and her voice shook as she called her boss' name.

"If you would like to follow me." The maid told him as she stepped aside to let him in.

Booth stepped inside and the maid closed the door behind him. The woman then led him to a small living room down a corridor and told him to wait patiently, that the doctor would soon join him. Booth thanked her and the maid disappeared.

Left alone in this small room, Booth examined his surroundings. Everything was so neat, making Booth wonder how often the maid cleaned up after her employer. Not a single trace of dust could be found on the furniture present in the room.

"Miranda is the best maid around." A voice said behind him as he was running his finger over a the shelf of a bookcase.

He turned around to find Dr. Symmes coming into the room. He had barely changed in the three years since he had last seen him. His hair had gone greyer, of course, and his face seemed somehow rounder. But he still wore those small glasses on the bridge of his nose and his eyes were still as grey as they had been back then.

The doctor smiled politely at Booth and motioned to him to sit. Obviously, he had no idea as to why Booth had stopped by his home, unannounced. If he knew, Booth thought, he certainly wasn't nervous.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Dr Symmes asked him as he sat down in an armchair across from him. "Miranda is quite good at cleaning the house but she doesn't always think to greet the guests properly."

"I'm fine, Dr. Symmes. I won't be staying long. I just have a few questions to ask you."

The doctor nodded before frowning.

"Your face seems familiar. Have we met before?"

The question took Booth by surprise.

"My name is Seeley Booth. You treated my daughter three years ago during the Febril epidemic."

"Ah yes, I remember now. Riley Brennan-Booth, the first survivor of his bizarre fever. How is your daughter, Agent Booth? You, yourself, look quite well. The last time I saw you, you were pale and close to death."

"She's really well." Booth said, forcing a smile.

For some reason, Booth wished the doctor hadn't remembered his daughter's name.

"Good for her. I never doubted it for a second. This little girl had a will to live."

_So did the little girls you killed._ Booth thought, angrily.

Silence fell over the room, which was quickly broken by the doctor.

"You're here to ask me questions. Regarding what exactly?"

"I work for the FBI, Doctor, and I'm the agent assigned to investigate the bones found in the basement of the 53 Maple Street house."

Booth's eyes focused on the doctor's face. But the mention of the 53 Maple Street house seemed to have no effect on him. His face remained neutral and his voice was calm when he answered.

"A very sad story, indeed." The doctor replied. "How many girls were killed in that house? Three? Four?"

"_Five_." Booth replied. "All nine years old."

The doctor nodded.

"You never expect something like this to happen in a small community like ours. I have lived here all my life and never had I heard something so horrible. Expect, maybe, the Brown case."

"The Brown case?" Booth asked, innocently.

The doctor nodded.

"About forty years, a man named Cameron Brown poisoned his daughter. He was sentenced to life in prison even though he always claimed that he was innocent. I believe it."

"You believe Cameron Brown never killed Emily?"

"So you have heard of the Brown case?"

The doctor quirked an eyebrow at him and Booth cursed himself for the mistake he had just made.

"And why do you believe such a thing, Doctor Symmes?" Booth asked, ignoring the previous question the doctor had asked him.

"Call it a 'gut feeling', Agent Booth."

"How old are you today, Doctor?"

"Agent Booth, what kind of question is that?"

Booth glared at him.

"I'm 52 years old."

"Emily Brown died in 1976. You must have been very young when it happened. How could you have known that Cameron Brown was innocent when you were barely out of elementary school?"

The doctor seemed defeated by Booth's question. Booth smiled inwardly.

"What can I do to help you, Agent Booth?"

His tone had now turned from pleasant to arrogant. Booth's smile faded.

"I need you to tell where you were the night of April 21st?"

The doctor frowned, as though trying to remember where he had been on that particular day, a month ago.

"I was probably here, sleeping. I had worked all day and I was tired."

"_Probably_ here?"

"It was a month ago, Agent Booth. Do you remember where you were on a day a month ago?"

"Can anyone check out your alibi?" Booth asked, ignoring the question.

"You can always ask Miranda."

"I will."

"Good."

The doctor stood up and walked to the window.

"I guess that makes me a suspect in the case."

Booth nodded.

"Yes, it does."

"It's that Rowan kid, isn't it?"

"Rowan kid?"

"Don't play dumb, Agent Booth. I know you've spoken to Rowan Kresic. I'm surprised though. I thought he had killed himself."

Booth felt the anger rise up inside of him. If it wasn't for the lack of evidence against the doctor, he would have been handcuffing the doctor right away. And Symmes probably knew it and was probably having fun torturing him. He wouldn't give him the pleasure of falling into his little trap.

"He disappeared about ten years ago and we never heard from him again."

"How do you know Rowan Kresic?"

"Before I was a pediatrician in the hospital in Washington, I practiced here in Winchester. I know practically every kid in the city that is older than ten years old today. I can tell you exactly what bone has been broken in them and what illness they have caught. I have a good memory."

Suddenly, more pieces added themselves to the puzzle that had become their case. In an instant, he understood why Raine Bennett had disappeared so mysteriously. She had known her abductor. She probably trusted the doctor who had treated her for illnesses or broken limbs. And if he followed his gut feeling, he knew that Raine Bennett hadn't been killed in the woods behind her backyard. She had been killed somewhere else.

"Rowan Kresic was a weird child, Agent Booth. He wasn't quite right in his head, if you know what I mean."

"He seemed perfectly fine when I spoke with him, Dr. Symmes."

"So you did speak with him?"

"Yes I did." Booth replied, defiantly. "He also told me he had seen you, holding Hope Lawson, on the night she was murdered."

Symmes turned around and, for a split second, Booth thought he could detect a hint of panic in his eyes. But when he spoke, the doctor was quite calm.

"He _thinks_ he saw me but it wasn't me. Did he tell you that he followed me around after that? He never left me alone. He threatened me to call the police, to tell them he knew who had killed Hope Lawson but he never did. I almost had to put a restraining order on him so he'd leave me alone. I didn't have to, of course, because he went nuts and took off only god knows where. Where did you find him, anyway?"

"That, I can't tell you, Dr. Symmes. Confidentiality. Surely you know what that means?"

Dr. Symmes forced a smile.

"I have a brother."

Booth raised his eyebrows.

"Oh so now there's a brother?"

The doctor ignored him.

"He looks just like me. I didn't want to say anything but I think he's the one behind all these murders. He's been acting really strange since the bones were found in the Robertson's home. I tried contacting him but he doesn't answer the phone."

Booth nodded.

"Can you give me your brother's name?"

"Jason. He works in a restaurant down-town. Do you need the name?"

Booth jotted down the names in his notepad then got up.

"If you don't mind, I would like to use your bathroom. I've had a long trip and too much coffee on the way here."

"Second floor, on your right. It's the second door on your left."

Booth thanked him before walking out of the study. Going up the stairs, he looked down to see if the doctor was staring at him. Unfortunately, the doctor had stayed in the study.

Something about his behavior wasn't quite right. Booth hadn't been able to detect one hint of fear, except for the brief of appearance of what he had interpreted as panic in his eyes. For a split second, Booth wondered if maybe Rowan Kresic hadn't lied to him? If Dr. Symmes really did have a brother who looked an awful lot like him, maybe it was possible that Rowan could have mistaken both men. His guts told him Rowan was telling the truth.

At the top of the stairs, he examined the corridor on the left. Three doors were opened and Booth wondered what the rooms were used for. Glancing at the bottom of the stairs to make sure the doctor or the maid wasn't looking up at him, he slowly made his way down the dark hallway. The carpet squished under his careful steps. All three rooms served as guests rooms and only one was occupied.

The cat opened one eye when Booth stopped in front of the door. Let out a noise that sounded like a complaint, the cat stood up and jumped down the bed. As it brushed against Booth's leg, the cat looked up disapprovingly at him, as though trying to tell him he had bothered him during his nap and disappeared down the hallway and down the stairs. Thinking he better really use the bathroom before Symmes suspected what he had done, Booth quietly made his way to the bathroom.

He flushed the toilet just as footsteps were heard in the staircase. Booth pretended to wash his hands and wiped them on a towel hanging nearby.

He came out of the bathroom to find the doctor looking at him suspiciously.

"Well I should get going. My wife will probably want me to pick the kids up at school."

The doctor nodded.

"Miranda will show you to the door."

Symmes called out for his maid who appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Miranda, would you kindly accompany Agent Booth to the door, please?"

The maid nodded and Booth thought he had seen her sigh. Obviously, showing guests to the door wasn't officially part of her job description.

At the door, Booth took one last look at the house before stepping out. Only when he had turned the corner of the street did he dare fetch his cellphone from his pocket. Dialing his wife's number, he checked in the rear-view mirror, almost expecting the doctor to be following him. No one was on the street.

"Booth."

"How I love to hear you say that." Booth teased as he turned into traffic.

"Where are you?"

"I just paid a little visit to our dear friend Dr. Symmes."

"How did it go?"

"Pretty well, I might say. Bones, you said that the report on Mickey's death said that two hair fibers were found on her?"

There was a ruffling noise that told Booth his wife was probably searching for the file. A couple of seconds later, Temperance spoke again.

"Yes. One was human, the other feline. Why? Does Symmes have a cat?"

"American bobtail." Booth replied, his smile growing. "And guess what? Kitty even rubbed itself against my pants."

He thought he could feel his wife smile on the other side of the line.

"Don't wash your pants before I get home."

Booth chuckled.

"Don't worry, baby. The cat hair will still be on my pants when you get home."

"Good."

"Uh Temperance?"

"Yes, Seeley?"

In an instant, Booth had known she had understood his unspoken words. The use of their first names were saved for serious conversations.

"When you get home, there's something I would like to talk to you about."

There was a short silence.

"Me too."

Her response took him by surprise. The couple hung up, leaving Booth puzzled.


	26. Chapter 25: Jason Symmes

**A/N: Another quick update! I think watching the first season of Bones gave me the motivation and the ideas to continue this story because I wrote the last three chapters (including this one) yesterday night. They're all ready and waiting for you. I'm a bit sad to see this story end since I've had a lot of fun writing it (despite the multiple writer's block) and I'm currently going ideas for a new story. Anyway, enough rambling... on with the chapter!**

* * *

Of all the things she could have told him, he hadn't expected her to tell him she had gotten a job proposal. He had thought, at first, that maybe she had realized that living so far from Washington wasn't really working out for them but a job proposal had never even crossed his mind.

He could barely believe what he had heard when Temperance had first told him. He had stared blankly ahead, too shock to say anything. She had grabbed a book on the end table and flipped it open, as though thinking it would have taken him more than a couple of seconds to digest what she had just announced.

"When?" Had been the only word to come out of his mouth.

"In three weeks."

He had nodded, numbly. Then, sighing, he had leaned back against the couch. Closing his eyes, he had tried calming his sudden growing headache. Beside him, Temperance had turned a page.

"And you said yes?"

Silence. Booth had opened his eyes and had turned his head slowly to his wife.

"I didn't give him an answer. I wanted to talk to you about it first."

He couldn't say he wasn't surprised and relieved that she had considered waiting until she had spoken with him before taking a decision. This wasn't the kind of decision to take quickly. There were so many things to be considered, including their marriage and their children. It wasn't like she had been offered a job in another city in Virginia. Florida wasn't even close to where they lived right now and just thought of being separated from his kids and wife by a couple of states was more than he could bare. He felt like being selfish, felt like telling her that they should just move back to Washington instead but this wasn't his decision. And knowing his wife like he did, he knew she had already made up her mind. She didn't need anybody's approval to make decisions and he had to feel happy that she had decided to at least talk to him about it first.

Booth let out a sigh. Cullen had offered him to become Deputy Director but, as much as he loved his job, he couldn't leave his family. He had chosen his job over Temperance already and had immediately regretted it. He wasn't about to make the same mistake again. But he wasn't even sure if a position in the Miami FBI bureau would be available and his advanced age prevented him from going back to the field full-time. He needed a desk job, something that would keep him out of harm's way while he raised his little family but also a job that could help pay the bills. He didn't feel like having his wife pay everything for them. After all, he was the man in the house and he needed to contribute.

They had decided to put the conversation on hold, at least until the case was over. There were no reasons, and Booth agreed, to panic just yet. Besides, there were five nine-year-old girls waiting for justice to be brought to them and that was currently more important than a job proposal down in Florida.

Jason Symmes' restaurant was situated down-town Winchester. Booth was surprised he had never made the connection between the cook and the doctor before. They had gone several times to Symmes' restaurant, had met him a couple of times but never had he thought the two men were related. But now that he thought about it, the brothers _did _look alike.

Despite the family resemblance, Booth knew the doctor was their man and not the brother. But maybe his wife had influenced the way he worked but something told him he should check the brother out as well, just in case. A voice, that reminded him vaguely of Temperance, was telling him not to overlook any facts just because it worked with his theory. Something similar had happened to David Pharatt and it had led him to prison.

* * *

"What's that?" Monica asked as Temperance took out a small plastic bag from her lab coat pocket.

Smiling, Temperance lifted it up for her student to see.

"It's cat hair. Booth got it stuck to his pants when the suspect's cat rubbed itself on him."

"It's weird how you call your husband by his last name. It's like if I would call Zach, Addy."

Temperance raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry, Dr. Booth." Monica replied. "My comment wasn't relevant to the case."

To her surprise, Temperance simply smiled and shrugged.

"Yeah well, it _is_ weird that I call my husband by his last name."

Monica smiled.

* * *

The restaurant was quiet when Booth pushed the door and stepped inside. A couple sat near a window, a waiter jotting down their order while two elderly women were enjoying their meal in the far corner of the restaurant. Two men also sat at the bar, probably there on a business lunch.

Booth made his way to the bar and sat down beside one of the men. A woman, probably in her mid-thirties, immediately came to take his order.

"Actually, I won't be eating. I was just wondering if maybe I could speak to Jason Symmes."

The woman's smile faded at the sight of Booth's badge.

"Why?"

"Well you know, it's kind of confidential."

Just then, a voice behind them startled them.

"What's going on?"

Booth looked up in the direction of the kitchen to see two eyes peering at him from between frying pans.

"Jason Symmes?"

"Yeah." The man replied.

"If you don't mind, I would like to ask you a few questions."

The chef nodded.

Taking off his hat, he stepped to the other side of the counter and looked from the waitress to the agent.

"Follow me."

* * *

A small office had been built on a second floor above the restaurant and this was where Jason Symmes brought Booth after agreeing to talk with him. The room, as well as the staircase leading to it, was stuffy and hot. Booth immediately began sweating but Jason didn't seem to notice.

"After the hotness of the kitchen, I find this place actually pretty cool." Jason said as they went up the stairs.

Booth simply nodded.

Once they had taken seats in the small office, Booth turned to the cook and explained to him the reason for his visit.

"I didn't kill anybody."

"It's funny how you start the interrogation with that sentence."

"Well you said you were here about the 53 Maple Street case. I'm not stupid, Agent Booth. If you're here, then you probably think I have something to do with it."

Taller than his brother even though Booth knew Jason was probably younger, the chef seemed to have had better luck with his hair. Booth gave him approximately 50 years old but not a streak of gray hair coloured his head. Booth could see how Rowan could have mistaken the doctor for his brother, especially eight years ago when both of them would have had the same colour of hair. But looking at Jason Symmes, he knew he couldn't have done what his brother was accusing him of doing.

"If you're not stupid, maybe you would know that I'm not here to arrest you. I only stopped by to ask a few questions. If you cooperate, this shouldn't take long and you'll be able to go back to your kitchen without having to go down to the Bureau."

Jason nodded, slowly. A tiny bead of sweat ran down the side of his head but Booth blamed it more in the temperature of the room than nervousness.

"What do you want to know?"

"What can you tell me about your brother?"

"My brother?" Jason asked, surprised.

"Yes, your brother. I know Dr. Symmes as a professional but how is he _personally_?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir." Jason Symmes replied, glancing briefly out the window on his right.

"You know pretty well what I mean. Your brother is currently in a lot of trouble. Nothing you say will cause him more of it so I think you better just cooperate with me."

Jason sighed.

"What would you like to know about him?"

"Were you two ever close?"

"As kids, yeah. We are only three years apart. But then we drifted apart when he hit adolescence. We never really reconnected like we used to it after that."

"Like I said before, I've only met him on a professional basis a couple of years ago and I must admit, as a pediatrician, he's the best. But I've heard other things that make him look less good."

"What kind of things?"

"Something about a mental illness?"

Jason sighed once again and, leaning back against his chair, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Booth.

"Rick is... special."

"Special in what way?"

"He has this condition. Schizophrenia or something. He gets into these weird modes where he seems to lose all track on reality."

"Is he medicated for this?"

"I don't know."

"Have you ever seen him in one of those modes?"

"Once, a couple of years ago. It was the freakiest thing I had ever seen."

"How long have you known about his condition?"

"Not long. I mean, I always thought my brother was kind of weird. Back when we were young, he spent most of his time locked in his room. Sometimes, when I walked by his door, I would hear him talking to someone but I never heard anyone answer him. Then he left for university. He'd only come back every summer to work at the community center as a volunteer."

"Who paid for his studies if he didn't work outside of school?"

"My grandparents died just before he finished high school. They gave him most of their money so he could afford university. Up until his doctorate, he used that money to pay his tuition."

"And did he have other funny behaviors, other than talking to himself?"

"Not that I recall."

"And how did he even become a doctor? I doubt he could be certified as one if people knew he was mentally unstable."

"I don't think no one knew, other maybe than his doctor."

"His _doctor_? But you just said that you didn't know if he was taking medication or not."

Jason stood up and walked over to the window, pretty much like his own brother had done when their conversation had gotten more personal. This was definitely a family trait.

"I read books on schizophrenia when I first found out about my brother's condition. Schizophrenics have to the medicated or else it becomes almost impossible for them to function. Also, it reduces the risks of schizophrenic attacks."

"It probably also said that patients are tempted to stop taking their medication when things are going well."

Jason nodded.

"I lied to you, Agent Booth."

Booth turned around and quirked an eyebrow.

"You lied to a federal agent?"

"Yes." Jason replied, as he turned around.

His expression had morphed from worried to serious.

"It wasn't once. It was twice."

"Twice?"

"Twice I've seen my brother during one of his attacks."

"Can you describe these attacks for me?"

Jason agreed.

"Last time he came to see me, he was panicking. He said that voices were telling him to kill a certain person and he was afraid he was going to do it. He was shaking, Agent Booth, you should have seen him. He looked simply terrified. I told him not to worry, that everything was going to be fine. I thought he was going insane. His eyes were round as saucers, his pupils were dilated to their fullest. He paced back and forth in my living room, enraged. He kept muttering that he wasn't going to do it again, that _he_ better shut up."

"He?"

"I'm as confused as you are, Agent Booth. I had no clue what was going on. I tried talking to him, to reason with him, but he wasn't listening to me anymore. His eyes stared at me but I knew he couldn't see me. Then, he started yelling things I didn't understand and, when I went to grab his arm, he pushed me off. He headed towards the door. I didn't want to let him leave my apartment in that state and I tried to stop him. I tried grabbing his arm once more and he took a swing at me. He must have knocked me unconscious because when I woke up, I was laying on the living room floor and he was nowhere to be found."

Booth nodded. Things were finally beginning to make some sense.

"And when was that last attack?"

There was no real need to ask, Booth already knew the answer.

"About five weeks ago, on the day the last girl on Maple Street was murdered."

"Do you have any reasons, Mr. Symmes, to believe that your brother could have killed that little girl?"

"In the state he was in, I have no doubt."

A melody reached their ears. Booth grabbed his cellphone and flipped it open.

"Booth."

"It's a match." A voice told him on the other side of the line.

"You're serious?"

"The hair found on Mackenzie's body and the one on your pants are identical."

In an instant, Booth was up on his feet.

"What now?"

Glancing briefly at Jason Symmes, who was staring at him worriedly, Booth replied:

"I'm going to arrest Richard Symmes."

"But you don't have proof that it's him. You only have proof that his cat was there."

"Maybe I don't have proof yet." Booth replied. "But I sure as hell know how to make someone talk."

Hanging up, Booth turned to the chef.

"Anything else you want to tell me?"

Jason Symmes nodded.

"Yes. Please don't tell him I said he was capable of murder."


	27. Chapter 26: Confessions

Cars pulled over to the side as Booth sped down the boulevard, lights flashing and siren blaring. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. Dr. Symmes, whatever his condition was, was a threat to society and needed to be captured as quickly as possible. It annoyed him deeply that there were no hard evidence linking him to the crime scenes which was why a confession was desperately needed and something told him that the doctor would provide just that if Booth played his cards well. Fortunately for him, he had always been lucky at card games.

He pulled up in the doctor's driveway for the second time in two days to find Miranda working in the front-yard garden. She looked up at the sound of the SUV and got to her feet. Bringing her hand above her eyes, she squinted at him as he slammed the door to the SUV and crossed over to the other side of the vehicle.

"Agent Booth?" She said, confused.

"Hi. Is Dr. Symmes here by any chance?"

"Yes. He's in the back garden. Would you like me to fetch him for you?"

"No, that's okay." Booth replied as he stepped over a small patch of flowers. "I'll show myself to the backyard."

Miranda nodded, puzzled.

Carefully, Booth made his way to the garden. He had caused enough noise by slamming his SUV door and he didn't want to risk a flight on the doctor's part. He wasn't up to running after a man in the quiet streets of Winchester. His knee, which had been bothering on and off in the last two years, would cry mercy after only a couple of feet.

He spotted the doctor laying on a lawn chair by the edge of his pool, in the middle of his backyard. Sunglasses laid on his nose, making it impossible for Booth to know if the man had seen him or not. Slowly, he made his way up to the doctor and cleared his throat.

Slowly, the doctor reached for his sunglasses and lowered them. As he peered over them, Booth couldn't tell if he was happy or scared to see him. His eyes showed no emotions whatsoever, making Booth wonder if the doctor was currently taking his medication. The lack of emotion seemed to suggest that the bottle of pills had probably been untouched for quite some time. Subconsciously, he snaked his hand down to his gun. The cool contact reassured him.

"I had a little chat with your brother." Booth started. "He admitted to everything."

He wasn't quite sure what had made him say this but it seemed like the right way to go.

"Really?" Dr. Symmes asked, sitting up on the chair.

"Yeah."

"And you stopped by to tell me this?"

"Yes, of course. I dropped by to tell you that I have arrested him for complicity in first-degree murder."

Symmes' eyes grew round for a second or two. Booth forced himself not to smile.

"What do you mean complicity?"

"Well you know, there's no way you could have brought Mackenzie to the roof by yourself, especially not at your age. Mackenzie weighed what? Fifty? Sixty pounds? It's a little heavy for a 52-year-old man to carry, even when the child is drugged."

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Agent Booth." Symmes said as he pushed his sunglasses over his eyes and laid back down on the chair.

"As a pediatrician working in a hospital, you would have access to any type of drugs you wanted. It would be easy to slip some into one of your pockets and leave the hospital undetected. And with the only witness in the case gone, you thought you could get away with a fifth murder. Unfortunately, you didn't plan that your brother would confess to taking part of your murderous rampage."

"My brother had nothing to do with it."

Booth raised his eyebrows.

"Is this a confession, Dr. Symmes?"

Realizing his mistake, Symmes stood up, fists clenched and arms rigid on both side of his body.

"I'm not confessing anything."

He was breathing loudly and Booth could see in his eyes the million thoughts racing through his mind. He had been cornered but he was refusing to see it. He was stalling, trying to buy more time. Booth couldn't see why he was bothering but he couldn't complain either. The more he made him talk, the more chance the doctor had of screwing up in his story. This was all Booth wanted.

"So what now? You're going to punch me like you punched your brother the day you had your attack?"

For a second, the doctor looked defeated. But a wave of confidence suddenly washed over him and the look in his eyes became demonic. Booth subconsciously took a step back, hand lowering towards his gun.

"Do you know what it's like, Agent Booth?"

"What's like what?"

"I don't do as I please, I follow orders."

"You follow _orders_?"

"Yes, orders."

"From whom."

"Cameron Brown."

"Camer-?"

Booth chuckled, astonished.

"You expect me to believe that you follow orders from a deceased man?"

By now, the doctor seemed to have lost all contact with everything around him. He began pacing back and forth in front of his pool, arms flying as he began confessing to everything.

"He came to me thirty-two years ago, telling me he had a mission for me. He said that he had been falsely accused of the murder of his daughter Emily and that I needed to avenge him. He told me I'd find a little girl living there who also happened to be nine years old. I was to find her and kill her. Only then would he have his revenge."

"But you didn't expect an earthquake that night?"

Symmes chuckled.

"Actually, the earthquake made it easier for me. While everyone was petrified in their houses, I was free to roam around the yard undetected. I know the police think the earthquake broke the window but it didn't. I did. One hard punch and the whole thing shattered into a thousand pieces. It cut my hand, but a few stitches took care of the business. When the doctor asked me what had happened to my hand, I simply told him I had to break a window to get into my house after locking myself out. He fell for it, the idiot."

Symmes stopped pacing and turned to Booth.

"Do you know what she was doing when I took her? She was just sitting up in her bed, her eyes opened wide in fear. She seemed frozen in place. She screamed out when I grabbed her. I tried to put my hand on her mouth but the little rat bit me. I slapped her once across the face, just once, and it shut her up. I was able to get her to cooperate. Despite all the movement, I got her out of her bedroom window and then I myself jumped out. I made her climb onto the roof and told her to lay still. While the police was busy checking out her bedroom, we climbed down a water spout and I brought her down to the secret room."

"And that's when you killed her?" Booth asked, his throat dry from the emotion.

A wicked smile spread across the doctor's face.

"I strangled her. She suffered, Agent Booth. She suffered. I made sure she did. Just like Cameron Brown suffered in his cell all these years."

Anger flooded through Booth's veins and it took every inch of his will power not to jump on the man standing in front of him.

"You're sick, Dr. Symmes. I hope you know that."

But Symmes only continued to smile.

"I saved your daughter's life, Agent Booth. Don't forget that. I could have given up on her but I didn't. You owe me for her life."

"I don't owe you anything." Booth said through clenched teeth.

Symmes chuckled.

"You wish you didn't."

The doctor paused, looked over at his neighbor's house before turning his gaze back to the agent.

"It's funny how fate works, isn't it? All nine years old, all eight years apart, exactly the number of years Cameron Brown spent in his prison cell before he died."

"Fate has nothing to do with this."

"You think so? Huh. And I can't still believe how everyone believed I was insane. I even got my brother to think I was really schizophrenic."

Booth couldn't believe what he was hearing. The doctor wasn't really schizophrenic?

"Someone who kills five children just for the fun of it is not a sane person, Doctor."

Stepping closer to the agent, Symmes looked at Booth straight in the eye.

"Unfortunately, I don't care whether it is considered sane or not. I was just following orders. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Didn't do anything wrong?" Booth asked, in disbelief.

"If you think what I did is wrong, why don't you just arrest me?"

Booth didn't answer.

"I know why. It's because you want to hear the rest of the story. Well I'll tell you the rest of the story. Melanie Pharatt was the easiest one. When Cameron Brown came to see me a second time to tell me that, two years from then, the little girl who lived there would turn nine, I wasn't sure what to do. For two years, I wondered how I would do it when one day, David Pharatt stopped by my clinic with his daughter. She was my first patient, did you know that? Her father was scared she had caught a bad cold but it only turned out to be allergies. Tripping her was a brilliant idea since I knew her mother had died a similar way and that Pharatt had been accused of murder. The police would immediately turn their attention to him and I could walk away, once again, undetected."

"You're sick."

"I know. You told me that already."

The doctor's smile turned evil.

"And Raine Bennett? She didn't see it coming either. I guess her parents should have taught her better than to accept an invitation from a stranger."

Booth's heart was racing madly in his chest. Somehow, the doctor must have found out Raine Bennett had been his investigation and that he hadn't been able to solve it until today.

"But you weren't a stranger. She _knew _you. She trusted you."

"That, she did. She trusted me enough to come back to my place for some cake. She never saw that frying pan coming. You remember those black and heavy frying pans? It made such a weird noise when it collided with her skull."

There. Right there, something had disconnected. Anger had clouded his mind, disconnecting him completely from reality, sort of like when he had shot at that clown head so many years ago. In an instant, his clenched fist collided with the doctor's jaw. Symmes fell to the ground, in pain.

"You sick bastard!" He cried out, rubbing his jaw.

"Oh so now I'm the sick bastard?"

Symmes stood up, unsteadily. He glared at Booth, his face red and contorted in anger, his eyes shooting daggers at the man in front of him.

"You'll never prove that I killed those girls, Agent Booth. Your word won't be enough and the only other witness lives miles away, too scared to even come back to his hometown to testify against the man who supposedly killed five little girls. There is no DNA, no actual evidence that link me to the girls. And by the time you'll find that evidence, I'll be long gone. I'll be somewhere nobody can find me."

"I hardly doubt that because you see, when you went over to the Robertson's home, you brought along company."

The doctor eyed him, suspiciously.

"You brought along some hair. Some belonged to your cat and some probably belonged to you. Your cat's hair has already been matched from my last visit here and all I need now is a hair of yours to make the comparison. But it's not all, there's something else."

The doctor watched wide-eyed as Booth's hand disappeared in his pocket, only to come out seconds later with a tiny recording device.

"It'll be pretty hard to argue against an actual confession."

Synmes' face contorted in anger.

"You sick..."

"Bastard? Yeah, you called me that already. The problem is that the insult doesn't really apply to me because I _have_ a father and _know_ who he is."

Lowering his hand to his belt, Booth grabbed his handcuffs.

"Richard Symmes, I'm placing you under arrest for the murders of Laura Joyce, Melanie Pharatt, Raine Bennett, Hope Lawson and Mackenzie Robertson."

Grabbing the doctor by the arm, Booth cuffed his left one. He heard movement behind him but decided to ignore it. As he grabbed the doctor's right arm, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head.

Spots appeared in front of his eyes while things slowly began to darken around him. Booth was barely aware of letting of the doctor's arm and falling to his knees.


	28. Chapter 27: The End

The entire town of Winchester seemed to have gathered up for the funeral in the small cemetery. From her seat, Temperance could barely see the end of the crowd. They had run out chairs and at least thirty people were standing behind the rows of chairs. She never thought so many people, most of whom didn't even know the victims personally, would show up. She couldn't help the smile that stretched on her face, despite the sad circumstances. She turned to Booth and smiled. He smiled back.

They watched as Lucy Robertson slowly made her way up to the microphone. The mother stood, shakily, in front of the crowd, her eyes red and puffy, her face skinnier than it had ever been. She suddenly seemed aware of how hug the crowd really was. She took a deep breath and, glancing briefly at the wooden casket beside her, she began her speech.

"Mickey was a great girl, really bright and energetic, really the best daughter a mother could ask for and I'm not saying that just because I'm her mother."

The crowd chuckled softly.

"Never once did I hear a single negative comment about my daughter's behavior or manners from her teachers and even from strangers. Everyone seemed to agree that Mackenzie was a special girl with a bright future ahead of her. She loved everyone and was always so kind to others. It pains me to think that I'll never know what kind of person she would have grown up to be or what she would have done with her life. It saddens me to think of the friends she would never make, the boyfriends she will never have and the proms she will never go to. But the one thing that pains me the most is that I'll never be able to tell her how proud she has made me during her brief life."

Lucy sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Losing a child in this way is horrible. I'm sure the parents here present will understand what I say. Nothing can prepare you for the death of your child, no matter what the circumstances are but to know that there are people in this world, running free, that can hurt a child is a difficult thing to bare. Fortunately for us, those who have lost the love of our lives because of those people, there are others who are willing to help us in any way they can. And so, on behalf of all the parents of the victims here today, I would like to say a few thanks."

Somewhere in the crowd, someone coughed. Temperance turned to the row in front of them to see Mrs Bennett grabbing her husband's hand and laying her head on his shoulder.

"First, I would like to thank our friends who stuck by us through this difficult time. To everyone who was there for us, comforted us when all we wanted were answers to our questions- we will never forget what you have done for us. Your words, your encouragement were all that we needed. We needed to know that we were not alone in this, there were still good people out there who loved and cared about us. We will be forever thankful.

To Mickey's friends- Thank you for coming down here today to pay your respect to your beloved friend. It just shows how many of you loved my daughter and are sad to see her go so soon.

To the whole town of Winchester, to everyone who has come down here today- I have to admit, I'm quite surprised to see so many of you here. I stand here and I see different age groups, young and old. I see children, parents, grandparents and probably some great-grandparents. Some of you knew the victims. They were your childhood friends, your siblings, your neighbors, your best friends. Some of you didn't even know Mickey, or Hope, or Raine, or Melanie or even Laura. Still, you decided that the death of a child something worth taking time out of your agenda for, to honour a short life taken away so drastically, a life you weren't even aware existed until recently. This proves that love and compassion is still present in a world led by crime, hatred and war. It shows that, whatever happens, kindness can still find its way back into our hearts and that we should look forward to the future and not fear it. To all of you, thank you very much."

Lucy smiled kindly at the parents sitting in the front row. Then, looking up at the next row, her smile turned appreciative.

"And finally, a very special thanks to Special Agent Seeley Booth and his wonderful wife, renowned forensic anthropologist, Dr. Temperance Booth. I met the Booths when they moved to Winchester two years ago. Their daughter, Riley, was my daughter's best friend. They were family friends, always so kind to my husband and I, and also to my daughter who spent half of her time over at their house."

Booth and Temperance smiled.

"But in the last couple of weeks, I came to know them as the FBI agent and the doctor. These two do incredible work together. Along with the entire forensics team at the Jeffersonian Institution in Washington, DC, they worked very hard to bring us closure in a dramatic even in our lives, to give us the answers we desperately needed. Even though there are still questions to be answered, your determination, your intelligence and your trust have given us the greatest gift of all. I speak for all the victims' parents when I say _thank you_. Thank you for everything. You two are really the greatest!"

A harpist began a sad melody as Lucy came back to her seat. The priest replace Lucy at the microphone and proceeded with the ceremony.

Temperance tore her gaze from the stage and slowly brought it four seats down. She found Lucy already staring at her, tears now falling freely from her eyes.

_Thank you_. Lucy mouthed.

Her own lump formed into her throat and Temperance forced a smile, as she nodded polietely. She felt a hand on hers and she turned around to find Booth staring down at her, his face still scratched from the beating.

"It's okay to cry, Temperance." He whispered in her ear, before kissing her temple.

She was about to reply that she didn't want to cry but the words caught in her throat. Then, instead of arguing, she laid her head on her husband's shoulder and let the tears fall. She let the tears fall not only for the five girls staring at her on the photographs hanging above their casket but also for those other children who, at this instant, might have been suffering the same fate. She cried for Riley who, on the other side of Booth, cried freely for a friend Temperance knew she missed awfully.

When, fifteen minutes later, the Booth family made their way back to the SUV, Temperance pulled her daughter aside. She stared down at her, who's eyes were still red from all the crying. And, without the awkwardness always so present whenever she tried showing her kids affection, she gathered Riley in her arms and rested her chin on top of her head.

"I love you, Riley. Don't ever forget that."

Riley extracted herself from her mother's arms and looked up at her.

"I know, Mom." She said, as though her mother had just stated the obvious.

"I know I might not show you often but..."

"Dad said that everyone shows their feelings in a different way. He said that it's not because you don't hug us very often or give us a lot of kisses that you don't love us. You show us in your own way."

"Your dad said that?" Temperance asked, looking up at her husband who was standing in front of the SUV, staring at them.

"Yup. And he said that we should never be mad at you because of that."

Temperance smiled at her husband before bringing her gaze back to her daughter.

"But you know what Mom? It doesn't matter to me. I don't need to hear you say you love me to know that you do."

Temperance frowned, wondering exactly _when_ her daughter had gained so much insight on love and life. She didn't question it too long. Her daughter had the ability to surprise her when she expected it the less. Today was one of those days.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her frown into a smile.

"How about some ice cream to make up for the rough day we just had?"

Riley's face lit up.

"Ice cream at Great Big Scoop?"

Temperance nodded.

"With sprinkles and chocolate fudge and everything?"

"And everything." Temperance replied as she took her daughter's hand and made her way to the SUV.

* * *

Temperance let herself fall onto the bed, obviously exhausted. Booth looked up from the file he had been reading.

"What is it with these children and bed time? Is there some kind of secret rule now that children don't go to bed before eleven?"

Booth chuckled.

"Well maybe it's from all the ice cream and candy you fed them since we came back from the funeral. I don't think they ate real food since lunch."

"They're only children for a short period in their lives. Might as well make the best of it."

"Did Mickey teach you that?"

Temperance frowned.

"No. Why?"

"Because, Bones, sometimes there are events in our lives that make us reconsider everything we thought we knew about life. Deaths like Mackenzie's are one of them."

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right."

Temperance glared at him, making Booth chuckle. But her annoyed expression only lasted a few seconds before her lips morphed into a smile.

"I love you."

Booth smiled tenderly at her.

"I know."

"I was thinking about going to see Angela tomorrow." Temperance said as she stood up and began preparing for the night.

"Oh yeah?"

"I got a message from her yesterday. She says that Kyle is now breathing on his own and that he's gained some weight. The doctors think that a few more weeks and she'll be able to bring him home."

"Good."

Grabbing an old T-shirt from her drawer, she put it on before climbing back into bed.

"Booth, about the job..."

"I think you should take it."

"What?"

"I think you should take it. It's a good opportunity and, besides, it'll get you out of the lab which is something I certainly won't be complaining about."

"But I like my job at the lab." Temperance replied, indignantly.

Booth sighed. Crawling out of the sheets, he laid down on his stomach beside her.

"Yeah but you know what? I think you've done your time. Maybe the time has come for something new, something different. You've spend so many years in that lab, working your butt off to fight criminals and that's a good thing but you can't make it _all _your life. Taking that professor position in Florida will give you more spare time. You can even start writing again."

"But I'll miss working at the lab."

"Bones, it's not like you'll never work in a lab again. I'm sure Miami has a forensics lab where you could do your thing?"

Temperance chuckled softly.

"I guess. But what about you? I can't impose you anything."

"Don't worry about me, Temperance. I'll figure something out."

"But I thought Cullen wanted you to become Deputy Director? You can't possibly give that up. It's a good opportunity for you, too."

"So what, Tempe? You want us to get a divorce? Or maybe you just want to take the kids down to Florida with you and send them up north every other Christmas and during the summer?"

"I never said that, Booth." Temperance replied, offended.

"I know." Booth said, realizing that his tone might have been harsher than what he had intended it to be. "What I mean to say is that wherever you go, I'll follow. You're my life, Bones. And you're far more important than any job position."

Lowering her head, Temperance captured his lips with her own.

* * *

She wasn't quite sure what had awoken her but she was suddenly aware of how cold the room had grown. Even the heat from Booth's body wasn't enough to heat her up and she cuddled closer to him. His heart beat slowly against her ear and the sound of it would have been reassuring usually but wasn't tonight. A shiver ran down her spine and she suddenly got the impression that they were no longer alone in their bedroom.

Carefully, as though afraid of what she might find when she opened them completely, she opened one eye then the other. It didn't take long for her to figure out what had awoken her. At the foot of her bed stood a little girl, a little girl she recognized easily.

Momentarily stunned, Temperance didn't move. Then, as her mind registered what her eyes were seeing, she closed her eyes only to reopen them moments later. Melanie Pharatt was still staring back at her but, this time, she wasn't alone. Temperance recognized Laura, Raine, Hope and Mackenzie. All five girls stood staring at her, a happy smile on their faces.

"Thank you."

Melanie's voice came out as a hoarse whisper, sending more shivers down Temperance's spine and making the hair on the back of her neck rise to its fullest. Shaking slightly, Temperance nodded numbly.

Before she could completely process what was going on, she watched the little girls take off running towards the open door in a fit of laughter. Then, before her eyes, the girls vanished down the hallway.

Still unsure about what had just happened, Temperance laid back down and snuggled even closer to Booth and tried to fall back asleep. But sleep wouldn't come. Her mind kept replaying what had just happened. She saw Melanie again, standing at the foot of her bed, her brown breads hanging on each side of her head, much like the day she had seen her sitting on the edge of the catwalk. Then again, she wasn't sure if she _had_ seen Melanie that day.

Ghosts don't exist, Temperance reminded herself.

If they didn't exist, then why had she just seen Melanie, along with the other four girls, a moment ago? Had her mind played tricks on her? Had she just had an hallucination due to her mind clouded with sleep? Booth was still asleep, why was she the only who had been awaken?

She couldn't understand why Melanie would appear to her, or even why she would thank her. Sure, they had proved the innocence of her father but they hadn't even been able to catch the real killer. Symmes had gotten away, after beating the hell out of Booth, giving him a broken nose, two broken ribs and a few cuts and bruises that were still apparent even after two weeks and sending him three days to the hospital. He had taken his maid with her and a nation-wide arrest had been made in his name, for abduction, sequestration and murder. Temperance still didn't understand why Miranda had followed his orders but Booth had told him Symmes could be a very convincing man. If he had been able to convince the hospital staff that he was normal and his family that he was a schizophrenic, he could convince anyone of everything.

Then, it hit her. Maybe it didn't matter. These girls had finally been heard. It didn't matter which way you chose to acknowledge that fact. It didn't matter if the information was gathered from their bones, or from their pictures by a so-called psychic (whom they hadn't heard from in more than a month, much to Temperance's happiness), or even by a doctor's confession. All these restless spirits, if they existed, wanted was to be heard and their wish had been granted.

Temperance let out a groan. Booth had a bit too much influence on her. But, as she watched him sleep, his chest rising up and down with each breath, his features relaxed, the cuts and bruises slowly healing and disappearing, she didn't care. She loved him, he loved her and he would always be there for her to argue with over their different beliefs. And, even if Symmes was still out there, their personal lives weren't going to change and _that_ she was thankful for. Whatever laid ahead for them in Florida, they would make it through just like they always did.

Temperance fell her eyes grow heavy and she laid her head back on her pillow. Closing her eyes, she listened to the sound of the outside world, coming in from the open window. Soon, sleep claimed her.

In his bedroom, Lukas mumbled something in his sleep before turning on his back. His hair was plastered by sweat against his forehead and, despite the hotness of the night, he pulled the blankets up to his chin.

On the other side of the wall, Riley pulled her stuffed penguin closer to her.

In her crib, two doors down, Brina slept soundly, her thumb in her mouth, her index resting on top of her nose.

The entire house was quiet, the only sound coming from the kitchen where water dropped from the tap.

Somewhere across the country, a maid was being pushed out of a rolling car.


End file.
